Play A Game
by The-Talking-Peanut
Summary: Joker has been kidnapped by Jigsaw. Will Batman/Bruce Wayne be able to save him? Or is he far too lost and broken in the Puppet's clutches to be saved? Warning: SLASH! Graphic horror themes. Humor in some chapters.
1. Let The Game Begin

A/N: This is my very first story that I have actually made up, typed together, and became brave enough to send it somewhere for others to read. EVER. I think I'm a terrible writer, so please don't laugh if it sucks, because I'll cry. I'm very sensitive and am regretting at this very moment that I ever sent it. *slams head on desk !!__!!* **Comments make the sun rise!!**--But be gentle! I bruise easily. ),8 Oh, and it's un-beta'd so I'm sorry in advance if it's OOC. Remember: It's my first. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. :)

_Heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh_--

The Joker snapped his eyes open with a gasp, struggling to breathe. Something was wrong. Something was _very wrong_. Even for his standards, he knew this shouldn't be right.

His body's first impulse was to run before his mind could register what was going on. He fidgeted wildly in vain against the restraints which seemed to hold him tightly in place _everywhere_. But he only succeeded in wiggling a little and letting out a feral growl of frustration. He thrashed his head around but it hardly did anything for it was securely fastened to something he couldn't see. _But it was heavy_. Still, he tried to get free for what seemed like another 10 minutes with the same results.

His eyes searched around the room madly for an escape and was rewarded with none.

The Clown was breathing heavily from panic and lack of success, allowing his mind to sluggishly catch up to this new scenario. _Don't like being held down_ were his first coherent thoughts. _No, nonono being held down is bad. Very bad. Very very bad. Must get up, must go. Must get out. Out, **out**_.

Not wanting to admit defeat, the Joker gave one last _long_ struggle (clawing, biting, _anything_) for freedom before relaxing and taking in the surrounding area. His panting and the creaking of wood and metal were the only sounds he was greeted with.

The room was small, dark and filthy. It wreaked of rotted flesh mixed with stale urine and feces. There were no actual visual lights anywhere yet he _could_ see nearly everything in the little room. There must have been a hidden light source somewhere. The walls were glistening with something slimy. _Probably the cause for the smell_ Joker mused. He tried to distort his face to get a better look at his own restraints. What he saw caused the slight unconscious constriction in his stomach to grow.

First, it silently dawned on him that he wasn't wearing his coat or inner jacket. _And they took my gloves. Why do they **always** take my gloves?_

Then he noticed he appeared to be sitting in a chair that looked like it came straight from a Marilyn Manson video. His legs were slightly elevated like sitting in a dentist's chair. Nearly every part of him seemed to be strapped down; forearms, upper arms, thighs, cnemis, ankles, chest, shoulders and neck. _Well, that would explain the lack of moo-vemen**t**_. He giggled. The only thing that seemed free to move was his wrists. He let his fingers wander to wherever they could touch a surface. Not a whole lot, it seems. The Clown discovered that on both sides of the hand rests there were about 5 buttons within reach. He began to fidget. His fingers itched with anticipation over them. He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood to try and restrain himself from seeing what happens if any or _all_ the buttons were pushed. _Heheh! Don't wanna know what happens before the game starts!_

His breathing ceased for a moment. He recoiled his hands into fists immediately and became rigid. _Wait a minute. Why did I think that? What game? How do I know any of this?_

The thought was fleeting, and the second it left he forgot about it and went back to study the most obvious thing about the chair...which were six of the most disconcerting things that seemed to scream 'no hope'. Both his knees, elbows, and ankles looked like they were about to be crushed by some of the nastiest looking spikes ever created from metal. Sensitive joints hovering between rows upon rows of sharp jaws patiently waiting to be devoured by the inevitable. By the way he was strapped down, there was no way in hell he could even think about sliding out from them. Not that he really wanted to, for they seemed to hold a sickening fascination in the madman's head. He licked the corners of his mouth and stared at those gadgets in awe, like a child seeing a magic trick for the first time. A great part of him _wanted_ them to grind down and reach home, just to feel what it's like. However, whatever sanity he had left miraculously dominated his reasoning and prevented it to go any further. It kept annoyingly saying _These joints are important. If they are irreparably damaged, how are you going to have any fun?_ Not wanting to argue the matter with himself right now, he dropped it. Didn't forget it, just let it go 'till a later time.

He couldn't explain it, but the Joker found himself unable to stare at the 'teeth' anymore without getting a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept growing the more he learned. So he switched his attention to briefly become aware that wires seemed to be attached to the chair and devices on both sides. But, that was short lived when his temper fuse shot through the roof (so fast it would've put a certified bipolar to shame) when he became frustrated with the thing constricting his head movements. He snarled and tried desperately to grab at it. After a few tugs at the restraints which he so evidently forgot about, he tried biting it. When that obviously didn't work, Joker then tried to at least strain his eyes to get a better look at the 'head-cage'. He didn't learn much, aside from the fact the more he thrashed against it, the bigger headache was received in return. He _did_, however learn that the top was a sort of groove to his head and the bottom was a pain-in-the-ass bar.

Any other time or place for this sort of treatment, and the madman would probably get off on all of it with such joy.

But not now. Not here. Not like this. Not anymore. It...it was all too surreal and yet...

_All too familiar_.

He flinched at another fleeting memory that he knew he kept buried deep inside somewhere when this one was a little stronger (and lasted longer) and decided he had had enough of looking at this room and his shackles and just wanted to remember how the hell he got here. He shook his head as best he could to clear his mind and forced himself to just relax and go back to what lead to this. He licked his lips again.

_Ooookay, okayokayokay. O-Kay. Juuuuust calm dow**n**. Rela**x**_. He snorted at this. _No but, seriouslyyy...Got to think. Thinkity-think back_. He closed his eyes to drown out the room and let himself take a little trip to the past. _Gotta remember. Have to. Have to go back. But not there, not that back. This back. Before this happened. What, was I doing? Was I doing anything? Yesyes. Always doing something. Have to do something. Can't sit still--no, sitting still is bad. Very bad. Schemers sit. Sit and plan. **Hate** schemers..._

_Wait. Where was I? Wait. Where **am** I? Now. Where am I now? Not in that suffocating room. That soul-sucking room. Nono, more space. Air. Oh, wonderful air! Free space to run! Play! Do what I like! Can't get that in **that** room, no sir. But...**where** am I? IIII'm innn...open streeeets, yes! Oh what fun!!--Oh ho! Wait a tick, I'm not alone. Someone is with me. Correction; some**thing** is with me. Dark. Brooding. **Beautiful**. Feels similar, alike....who is, who is---**YES**._

_Batsy._

_**My** Batsy._

_Aaaaaannd, hahaha!! We're playing!!_

_We're playing tag and he's **it**!!_

Joker was right.

In a way.

~~*~~

He hadn't seen Batman in a while. Joker had been busy on his own musings, while Batman's attention had been drawn solely on these new bazaar murders. A serial murderer whose name hadn't been clarified yet was killing people in the most horrendous ways. Although all the victims seemed to be thieves, mob men, rapists and the like, that still didn't give him the right to take them and torture them to the limits only to end up killing them for no reason. They all had been strung up in peculiar ways. None of them made any sense, until they found out who the individual was, then strangely they all made sense. Each scene fit the personality traits of the victim. Example was if one was a rapist, the scene completely revolved around his hands in a violent and graphic way.

Another odd thing, however, was that at every scene, there had been a tape or video recording of the same voice taunting the individual with veiled threats of 'playing a game' to 'redeem themselves' for their sins. Each recording explained how the 'game' will work, and what they must do in order to survive. None of the solutions were even remotely pleasant, nor successful; so far there have been no survivors.

They all failed the game.

The Joker had been slightly aware of these murders and knew the press called him something that had to do with puzzle pieces, or cheese, or whatever. He didn't give it all that much thought because quite frankly, he didn't _care_. To him, this amateur was no match for someone with his talent. And the more chaos, the _merrier_.

But, he could tell when something was bothering his Batsy, and when it didn't involve himself, it upset him. He didn't like an even more moody Batman, so he decided to try and cheer him up and lighten his spirits.

They had run into each other and Joker could tell he had taken Batman off guard when he found out he hadn't killed, hurt, or blown anything up, but instead just came to seek him out. Because he missed him. He wanted to see him.

And play a game.

A harmless game, to boot.

When the madman dodged all the _Rat's_ accusations and just ran up and 'tagged him' then turned and ran away expecting him to 'get it and follow', Batman stood stunned and blank for a few moments before he turned and followed suit.

_HAHAHA!!! His face was priceless! Wished I had a camera to take a picture for the Album!!_

Now, this was just what the Prince of Crime wanted. And, as much as he loved the chase, he wanted to make it a little more complicated. So he ran down into an indoor parking lot, whooping and shouting all the way to make sure Batman doesn't lose track of him _too_ much. Oh, he was having so much fun, dodging this way--turning that. Duck and jump over people's cars (occasionally setting off an alarm), hiding here, sprinting there. But only after he realized that the Batman was nowhere in sight, he slowed down to an eventual jog, then walk. His laughter and good humor was still apparent, but it was clear he was a little more agitated that _Batsy_ wasn't 'following the rules'.

"Oh, Bats_yyyy_! Come out, come out, and find _me lover_!!" No response. "Come on, _Rat_man! You better try a little harder than _that_, or else I'll get bored!! And you know what happens when I get _boooored_..."

The Clown clicked his tongue and became disappointed and upset, when he heard a sound that resembled a rustle of a cape. He smiled like the Cheshire Cat, sliding his tongue suggestively over his bottom lip. When he sauntered over to where he knew Batman was, he purred "Oh Batsy. You're not very good at this game, are you? Tsk tsk tsk. That just won't dooo! Gonna hafta re-_edu_cate you in the uh, rules of tag! Ha. _See_," He twirled his wrists like a drunk conductor with an off-key band. He was ever closer, almost within reach when a devilish look overtook his features. "The rules of the game are simple. _I_, tag you. Then! _You_, have to follow me _every_where I go until you catch up...like uh, this...and _TAG_." He reached his hand out slowly in front of him and touched the shrouded figure in the shadows, then retreated his hand back a second later when he heard a set of footfalls in the opposite direction. Familiar heavy ones. Determined ones. Ones, that sounded like they were walking away.

Joker frowned, and turned back to the dark form he thought was Batman, when that too had disappeared. He licked his lips nervously and twitched his fingers. He looked around, bewildered at how strange this game had suddenly become. Not that he didn't mind strange, it's just this felt..._wrong_, somehow. The air felt thick and heavy. Uncomfortable. He turned on his heel and moved quickly towards the second sound. "Uh, hey Batsy! Uh, you should _rea_lly get your Bat-sensors checked cuz I'm uh, not over _there!_ You gotta come this--"

And he never got to finish that sentence. For in the next couple of moments, a dark figure slammed the Joker's body to the wall roughly, then before he could struggle in protest, a sharp excruciating pain wafted through the back of his neck and instantly to the rest of his body. He had enough time to let out a yelp, before he slid to the ground unconscious. But before the world became black, he strained for one last look at his assailant...and...

Saw it was a pig.

A long haired pig.

_Oh my God..._

_Miss Piggy got me in the end!!!_

He would have laughed then, and for all he knew he did, but the world quickly became blackness. Nothingness. Then all was _madness_. Mechanical laughter rang through his body, high-pitched an fast, causing his heart to race, then--

~~*~~

_I woke up and was here._

He jerked back to the present when he heard a loud static sound. Eyes flew open and searched for the location of the noise. It came from a TV to his left. His heartbeat quickened and became more panicked when he realized he had never noticed the TV there before. _Because it wasn't there before, I'm sure of it. I remember everything in this room, and **you** were not here before_.

It sent another uncomfortable twist to his gut at the thought that something was put in this room without him knowing. The feeling only got worse when the image on the screen became more visible.

At first all he saw was a white face. Then the other features came in; black and red eyes, swirly cheeks, black hair, sharp features, tailored suit.

It was a puppet...

_who looked surprisingly like a clown._

Joker couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think or speak. He just stared at that painted face. That _familiar_ face. That face that only haunted him in his dreams. Buried deep in the back of his mind, lingering. Stalking. Waiting. _Scheming_. Anticipating this reunion, _as **he** said he would._

Suddenly, a wave of memories and feelings crashed down on him all at once. All those nightmares he had locked behind for good had finally cracked open and pounded on him relentlessly. Too much at once, and none of them are coherent. Just when one leaves another more painful one replaces it. Just one big mess of pain, screams and despair. His mind was breaking down before him, and he could do nothing to stop it.

All the other times it happened he was able to just swipe it under the rug and move on.

He has nowhere to go now. The horn's been blown. The demons have come back. Time to face the music.

Joker shook uncontrollably at what he feared was coming next. What the thing would say. What it would do to him _this_ time.

His scars stung at the thought of another one of those 'games'.

And that's when those two feelings he hated more than any other overwhelmed him. Suffocated him. Ate him whole.

_Helplessness_, and _despair_.

The goddamn yin and yang to all his problems.

There was no escape this time.

"Hello again, Joker. It's been awhile."

_That voice! That guttural possessed voice!! No!!! Not again!! Nononono!!!!!_

"Oh God......I _know_ you..." _How do I know you?!_

His breathing became labored. He whimpered; it was too much. He felt he would explode at any moment. Everything hanging on a thread; And the thread is unraveling.

_Please someone! **Anyone!** Come get me! Get me outta here! I need to get out now!! Please!! Help me! Notice I'm gone! Can't go through this again, I won't make it this time!! For the love of God don't have him say **it**! Not that! Anything but **that**! It's all over if he says it! I don't wanna die this way!! **Not this way!** Pleasepleaseplease don't have him say---_

"I want to play _another_ game."

The Joker let out a blood-curdling scream again and again in response.

--So began the downward spiral.--

_Heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heeheeh heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha heehee heheh hahahaha...._

(A/N: The devices used on the Joker are actual Medieval torture devices. The one around his head is called 'The Head Crusher'. Mainly used to get information out of the victim. The torturer turns a crank from the top, crushing it down. First the teeth shatter, then the eyes pop out. Soon follows death. If the torturer stopped in the middle of it, he would leave the victim permanently brain damaged. The ones around his elbows, knees and ankles is called 'The Knee Splitter'. What this instrument accomplished was to permanently render the knees useless, damaging nerve tissue and popping the bones out of there sockets. It was also used for other body parts such as elbows and lower legs. Some of them were even heated to help burn the flesh. The amount of spikes varied from three to over twenty.)


	2. What Herbie Saw

A/N: Herbie is a character I made up for this story as the 'key' for Batman to eventually find the Joker. So, he's important. Just bare with him for now! I don't care if you don't like him, he's my creation, dammit! HE'S IMPORTANT!!!! *ahem* That is all! ---Remember: Comments make the sun rise!!--But be gentle! I bruise easily. ),8 Oh, and it's still unbetaed. I live wild and dangerous!! XD!! (not really...)

P.S.: Sorry it took so long to update. I'm very slow when it comes to writing (and pretty much everything else in life) and I 'accidentally' finished Pt. 3 first. o_O?? It's a long story...but, yeah. Hope you guys don't mind this one! (I don't think it's very good) Oh, and I'll hopefully have Pt. 3 up soon, cuz I still gotta tweak it a little. **UPDATE:** Woohoo!!! I've got chapters finished up to 6 now on this story!!!! Yaaaaay!!!! I'll try to post them as soon as I can, I promise!!! ^w^

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I can't believe that just happened.

If you had walked up to me on the street and showed me a recording of it, I still wouldn't believe you. I would have laughed and called you crazy, saying those were really bad actors, and the shaky-camera was a nice touch. I'm just that type of person.

But I can't say that now. Because it _did_ happen. I know this for a fact. How? Because I was_ there_.

I saw it with my own _two eyes_.

And I _still_ don't believe it. And it only happened a _few hours ago_.

But you can't make this shit up. Well, I can't. I'm not that creative. Never was. And why would I _want_ to? What gratification could I possibly get from creating such a story? Oh sure, I'd prick up some ears and definitely get attention. But not the attention I want. Cuz that would bring _him_ on me, and not even the baby Jesus would aim for _that_ goal. The man's got no rules, remember? Hell, _neither_ of them seem to. So just imagine the possibilities of how clever they could show themselves to be if I _really_ piss them off? (I just got goose bumps at the thought.) I've heard stories of what they've done when somebody _ticked_ them off...I couldn't sleep for weeks, cryin' like a baby.

So you gotta believe me when I say it really happened. I may not be smarter than a 5th grader, but I know when to make up stories and when to let sleeping dogs lie. And this is not one of them. It fucking happened, and I've got no idea what to do about it.

It was a fluke, and accident. I didn't mean to see it, I just happen (as I usually do) to be at the _wrong_ place at the _wrong_ time. That's what usually gets me into trouble. My cursed luck of being the one to witness something others missed. And boy, it seems folks miss alot of things. 'Cause I _keep_ getting into trouble.

I know I can't _completely_ blame it on the man upstairs _all_ the time, for I guess the line of work I'm into _does_ have its share of bad luck. And obviously bad _timing_. If not, I wouldn't be here, telling you what I know and what I saw. And because of that, I'm seriously thinking of changing my career...

Hmm? Oh, sorry. You're probably wondering who this crack-head is (Meaning me, in case you're slow). Well, I'm not great on introductions so I'll just dive in and hope you can hang on.

The name's Herbie, and that's it. That's all you need to know. What? I don't know _you_, so why should I tell you about myself? As far as I'm concerned, you could be a cop. Or _worse_.

Okay, _fine_. I'll tell you more. (What a pain in the ass...) I'm a car thief. (Yeah yeah, I know. Herbie the Car Thief. I've heard 'em all. Nick-name now is 'The Love Bug'. Gee, I wonder why?) I steal cars, and then either sell them or they're parts for a good price. Although sometimes I keep 'em for myself. Naturally I change the plates and sometimes the paint job on them. (Learned that from experience.) It's a pretty good living, if I do say so myself.

Hey, don't judge me. The severity of my crimes are the kind that are swept under the rug. Nobody cares. _Why?_ Because I steal cars _only_ from the rich. They got enough money to buy another one. Besides, they hardly press charges on it happening anyway. (I think it's because they got some _dirty little secret_ revolving around their set of wheels and they were just itchin' to get rid of it one way or another. So, I'm just helping them out. One time, the guy actually _paid_ me to steal his Hummer. And he wasn't stingy on the money, neither.)

So, in a way, I consider myself a modern-day Robin Hood. Who steals cars from the rich, and does what he pleases with them for the poor. No complaints yet.

But anyway, this is the reason that brings me to my predicament. I saw something I know I wasn't suppose to see, all because I was doin' my _job_. Here's what happened:

I had been scavenging through parking lot after parking lot for a really good specimen. I found a few, but was greeted by numerous close calls of being caught. (I don't know what it was about that day, but sure as hell seemed like everybody knew what I was doin' and kept watch on me. Now that I look back on it, it felt as if it was all pre-planned for me to be at that place to witness what occurred. Iunno, maybe not. I'm paranoid.)

I finally had no choice but to go and hunt through the underground parking lots. Usually these are my first choices, but the last time I went, I almost got into an accidental key fight with some drunken socialite who thought I came there just to rape him. He dropped his pants and everything, acting calm through the whole ordeal as if this happens to him all the time. _It was really awkward._ I ended up just walking away stunned, when he attacked me with his damn keys screaming 'rape'. It wasn't even much of a fight --the guy could barely stand-- but the whole thing weirded me out that I hadn't had the urge to go back. (In case he brings friends who want their 'virginity returned'. Freaks.)

Ironically, --cause God seems to have a twisted sense of humor-- this was the _exact same_ underground parking lot where this new thing took place.

I was a little wired by then, so I just scanned all the cars quickly finding something worth while, but in working order. (And empty. Fool me once...) What I ended up with was a Rolls-Royce. I know. I couldn't believe it either. I thought the fates had taken pity on me cuz of my lack of success in this giant garage so far. Saying I was gitty with excitement wouldn't cover it. I practically _squealed_. I ran my hands all along its sides and rested it on the handle. Now, _normally_ I would take out my lock-picks at this moment and be _real_ careful not to set off the alarms. But I just got this feeling in the back of my head that said that would be a waste of time. So, before I could stop myself I pulled on the door handle.

And it opened.

The door opened.

It just _fucking opened_.

No alarm. No hiding for cover. No waiting for cops to come and haul me off. Nothing.

The fuck-wad rich suit who owned this baby didn't even bother to lock it up. _And it was a brand-spankin' new model!_ He was just begging for it to be stolen. I mean, come on. He deserved it. _So did I_. He could afford another one, I'm sure. If he works where I _think_ he does...

I looked around to make sure no one was there, and sat down and slammed the door. (Yes, slammed. It's a bad habit on my part, get over it.) _Oh, man_. It felt so good-I practically melted in the seat. Leather. My favorite. I ran my hands over the wheel. "Hey there, beautiful. Welcome to The Love Bug." I was beaming so bad, I was practically my own flash light. After a few more minutes of groping the car, I got to work on hot-wiring it. Then stopped. And pondered on the intelligence of it's previous owner. I soon found my hands pulling down both visors and digging under the mats.

And wouldn't you know it? I found the spare key. I wasn't surprised either. But I was disappointed when I couldn't find his wallet or money. (If you had gotten this far like I did, wouldn't you think he'd be stupid enough to leave some cash in the car, as well? I did. Oh well, nothing's perfect.)

I was gettin' ready to take my new ride out for a spin, when I heard something that made me nearly shit my pants. Someone was coming. Correction; someone was whooping and hollering towards _my_ direction. I looked out the windows and panicked when the figure came in eyesight.

_It was the goddamn Joker._

At that point, I pretty much shit my pants. I knew that somewhere, the fates were laughing their fucking heads off at the practical joke they just set up for me. And, as usual, I fell for it. I mean, really. How could it get any worse? Who could possibly show up that's worse than the _Joker?_

When he came even closer to where I was sitting, my mind went blank and left me to fend for myself. I know at some point through all this, I suddenly became stricken with a severe case of Tourette's Syndrome. It wasn't helping. I did thank whatever luck I had left that I hadn't started the car _just yet_.

When I began to try and do the impossible by squeezing all of me down on the floor by the pedals to hide, I heard a few car alarms go off.

Yep. He was setting off car alarms.

I peeked and saw that he was playing leap-frog with them. My logic and reasoning left to go follow my mind and the rest of my coherent thoughts at this new bit of information. But I still was able to figure out --at his current speed and direction-- that I was pretty much screwed. I began to make peace with myself and regret a few things I had done in my life when I heard him howl, felt the back end of the car dip a little as he leapt over it and then......

_He passed me?!_

I was speechless, doing the world's greatest imitation of a fish. I couldn't _believe_ it. Not only did the car alarm _not_ go off (which made me wonder for a moment just how good quality this car _really_ was), but the Joker didn't even notice I was there. "What the beer-battered shrimp?" I wheezed, as my body was currently cramping in its new state of shock, and being stuck in a weird position on the floor. I couldn't breath now, so I decided to get out of the car and run like hell. (An unlocked Rolls-Royce or no, it wasn't worth the stress. I have enough of that already. Case and point; this story.)

I eased my free hand (the other was currently twisted in a 'S' shape crushed under my side) to the handle, and carefully--oh so carefully--I opened the door slowly (pausing every time I thought it made too much noise--which was a fuck-lot), stretched my out my legs first, then sorta _flopped_ the rest of the way out--for lack of a better description. I laid down in whatever position the car dumped me out as and froze. I even held my breath just waiting for the Clown to stoop over me and 'put a smile on my face'. (Like I said, I've heard stories.) I waited like that a good minute before I realized he hadn't noticed me at all._ Thank god for small favors_, I breathed.

Now, hang on. You'd think, cuz I was so lucky in going through all this and _still_ bein' unnoticed that I would count my chips and head in, right? Well...you'd _think_ that, anyway. No, I was an idiot and got too curious as to why he'd missed me and just kept going. I frowned, and listened, as it seemed he was now talking to someone. I dared to scooch over to the car next to mine and looked over, and had a _fabulous_ view of a support beam. Yeah, I know. Another hint that I should just go. But I was never good at picking up on hints, and now wanted to know who he was talking to. _Damn my insatiable curiosity..._

I crouched low and did some weird scuttle movements to another car. Paused, then did it again. Then did it a third time. I soon was having way too much fun at this, and when my back finally protested at the stupid position I was forcing it into (and nearly tripping, don't forget tripping), I stopped finally four rows closer to where the Psycho-killer Clown was. I was slightly surprised by a few things when peeking at him again;  
1) He really was a sight to behold (never met him before, only saw pictures. _And_, they didn't do him justice. The man's fuckin' _intimidating_ when it comes to _scary_.)  
B) How much I hate clowns  
Mi) Who the fuck was he talking _to?_  
-and finally-  
IV) He was talking about 'playing tag with _'Batman'?_

Apparently, he was doing more than just talking about it. _Well, that would explain his leaping and running around me unnoticed, I guess_. I thought to myself. What I couldn't figure, was _why_ was the Joker playing tag with Batman? Why would he want to? What could he gain by doing so, a playmate? Could he _possibly_ be getting _off on it_??

(Word of advice: Don't _ever_ try rationalizing the Joker. You get a doozy of a headache...)

Okay. Fine. The Joker was playing tag with Batman. And he was talking to him in front of me all nice-like. I've seen weirder things..._on film_...what I couldn't understand, was why was I so _fascinated_ by it all? Cause I know at some point, it all felt..._wrong_, somehow. Something just wasn't sitting right. Not about the tag (I don't give a flying fuck if they were _screwing_ each other. Pff! Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen), But about the shadowy _Batman_ the Clown was walking closer to. Something about _that_...

Yet, I didn't heed the warnings of what my little voice was practically swearing at me. _I_, had to stay and _see_...(and sometimes I wonder if I'm still sane)...

And, that's what I get for sticking around. They should just call me 'Curiosity the stupid Cat'. Cuz when I leaned in closer to see the madman reach out and 'tag' Batman, I heard footsteps behind me. My first reaction was to do a strange jump that could only be copied by a cat being startled. I was so caught up in what the Joker was doing in _front_ of me, I forgot about what _might_ be going on _behind_ me. Then my next instant-second-later-reaction was to turn and see who was thumpin' around. All I saw was a shadow on the wall of a cape, and horns.

I truly thought the devil was down in the parking garage for a minute there. (Like I said, I'm paranoid.) Then I whipped my head back to the front --getting a slight case of whip-lash in the process--, and I ducked down when I saw the Clown look in my direction.

No, not _my_ direction; the direction of the _sound_. Which, quite evidently, must've been the vigilante himself (being the more logical choice then _my_ fabulous idea).

But a creepy thing happened before I ducked down; when the Clown turned towards the sound, I _saw_ the shadow in front of him swiftly move away. He hadn't noticed it yet. And I ducked my head before I could see anymore. I had thought that 'shadow' was Batman. Hell, we _both_ thought it was. I knew _I_ was spooked by it all, but what was _really_ unnerving, was how I could _hear_ how much it had bothered the Joker. Believe me when I say that nothin' is scarier then when the most frightening, psychotic murderer with _no rules or boundaries,_ is clearly bothered by a simple set of footsteps walking _away_.

I don't know if it was just me, or not, but it felt as if the room became claustrophobic. I felt a chill run down my spine as I heard the Joker shout something to Batman while running _towards me_, **again.** He sounded a little panicked. _That was really unnerving._ I laid completely flat on the cold cement (and of course, the car I was laying next to had a bit of a leak which was forming into a puddle, which my face was now in. Good times), and was watching him move where I was stationed --writing a Last Will and Testament in my head-- when suddenly saw another set of legs ram into the purple ones and slam them into the wall. I flinched at how quickly it all happened. I also forgot to blink when I heard the Clown yell, then slump to the floor. He didn't move after that. Trust me, I waited. (Now I can't be positive on this, but I _think_ I heard him laugh, a little. Or was it my stomach? Iunno.)

I suddenly got the nerve to see who it was that rendered the _Joker_ unconscious. So I quietly got on my hands and knees and peeked around the corner of the car thinking _I am too old for this fuckin' shit. I really need to find a better career...or stop being so goddamn curious..._

_This time_, what I saw nearly made me piss my pants. (Oh, my poor pants...)

It was a Pig....thing.

I'm not kidding you, it's face was a Pig. Yes. You know what that means...

_It was the goddamn 'Pig' Jigsaw._

Could my life suck anymore?

_If I thought I was in deep shit when the Joker was comin' at me, I knew my life was gonna be up shit creek without a paddle if ole' Jigsaw noticed I was there_...But anyway.

Besides its appearance and what It does for a living, you know what was creepy about It? I'll tell you;

It kept tilting It's head from one side to another, staring down at the purple clump on the floor. As if It had never seen anything like it in It's entire life. And as much as I could believe that--Joker's a one-of-a-kind, after all--I got a funny feeling that it wasn't_ true_...

Well, I was _this close_ from just high-tailing it out of there, madder than a march hare. My eyes have seen a lot of things in my life, but _all this at once??_ No thank you. I wish to remain sane.

But dammit. I just. Couldn't. _Leave_.

Because _Now_, I'm worried less about _myself_, and more about the safety of the goddamn **Joker**_. I'm not kidding!_ I swear, there's _something_ about the man that makes you feel bad for him when something goes wrong. What. The _hell?_

And _I_ didn't think there could be _anything_ scarier than him...I take that back.

The 'Pig' hasn't said anything, so I can hear my heart rate speed up unnaturally. Gonna have a stroke, I just know it. But in the mean time, I had to find a way to get to my car and _fast_, cuz the 'Pig' bent down and lifted up the Clown into his arms and began to carry him away. _Away!_ I began to panic. He was just dangling in the killer's grasp, looking so _helpless_...

I _had_ to know where he was gonna take him.

I took a few steps to get another look at them when they moved slightly out of view and I --thankfully-- saw the 'Pig' dump the madman into the back of a gray van (with no windows, of course. Figures) then move to the front and get in.

Well, _now_ I didn't care if I was seen or _not_, I was running out of time! So I just made a break for it to the Rolls-Royce, pulled out the key, flung the door open, got in, slammed the door (YES! SLAMMED IT!), turned the car on, backed out of the parking space and drove like hell to follow the van which was _almost_ out of view. (And, let it be known that the speed in which I did all this would put the _Flash_ to shame, thank you very much.)

I haven't tailed too many people in my life, but I've seen it done in movies (and had it done to me a couple of times) so I know how the game works. I made sure to keep a good distance away from the van, but not enough to lose sight of it. I don't think the 'Pig' knew I was following It, or just didn't give a shit.

Of course, if I had known that I was going to be following the two most wanted criminals in _Gotham_, caring about where the lesser of the two evils was being taken, I would have chosen a jalopy instead of a fucking _Rolls-Royce_. Think what you will, but it turns heads when being driven through the Narrows, which he had led me to. _It's not a small car._ Everyone wants a peak inside to see what rich moron was too stupid to follow their GPS and got lost. Like I said, _wrong_ place, at the _wrong_ time. That's me.

Aside from the fact my adrenaline was practically running rampant through my system (and a great part of me wanted to ram my Royce so far up the van's ass), I tried to keep calm _and_ keep my distance. _Especially_ when the van turned into a more secluded area, and eventually slowed down in front of a particularly abandoned-looking warehouse, then parking it.

I made sure my headlights were off --I had turned them on in a panic...it's still day--, and did a backwards parking job in a dark alleyway not too far from the building, and then killed the engine.

I, was beyond hysterical.

Here I am, in a _very_ expensive car that some idiot forgot to lock, parked in a dark alleyway that looks like it's going to eat me, hiding and watching a thing with a 'Pig head' for a face, drag a purple Clown from the back of a van, and roughly carry it into the 'warehouse of hell'. If I _had_ anymore bodily functions to eliminate left, I was just letting them go rapid-fire now.

And thinking _This could only happen to me, in Gotham._

When they were both inside, I just sat there for a minute. Oh, forget that, try _several_ minutes of just sitting and _trying_ to understand what the_ hell_ just took place. Eventually, when I was _sure_ the 'Pig' wasn't coming back out for me, I turned the car on, pulled forward, and drove away. Drove home, and decided I needed to put on fresh clothes.

I don't know _what_ to do next. I couldn't believe it. I _wouldn't_ believe it. Who would believe me, _anyway_? No one, _that's_ who. So I decided to just forget I ever saw this. Just drink it off. I mean, _no one's_ even gonna care that Jigsaw's next victim is gonna be the Joker, right? He's probably doing us a favor for _Christ's sake!_ Decreasing the criminal population!

_So why am I so bothered by it?!_

Because I know I've got to do _something_ about this, I know I do. I can't just let this go, not when I'm the _only one_ with this information...but I also don't wanna get caught by _Jigsaw_. I don't wanna play his types of _games_. I like myself too much. And I _certainly_ don't wanna see my sins through his _eyes_. Oh, hell no.

_So what the fuck should I do!?_

I can't go to the cops, cuz they'll just arrest me on sight for my record. (Not much of a record when there are bigger fish to fry, I know that, but try telling it to them.) Besides, they'll think I'm crazy. Hell, _I_ think I'm crazy. After what _I_ just witnessed, I'll fuckin' _skip_ into Arkham with flowers for all the doctors. I'm serious.

But, then again, there's always _Batman_...

No, I can't go to him. Worse than the cops, _he scares the shit outta me_. And I don't need anymore of _that_. I never met him, either. But I've got a funny feeling he's not as bad as the public likes to make him seem. Still, he scares me. And if I'm gonna start going by my instinct, then I better just stay _away_.

Besides. Batman doesn't care if the _Joker's_ in _danger_ now, does he?

Of course not.


	3. Hurry

A/N: This was originally suppose to be a part of Pt. 2, but while I was typing it up, I realized it just got too fricken long. I have a tendency (well, more than a _tendency_) to babble on a bit. So, instead of giving you guys one VERY LONG post, I separated them into 2. Oh, and don't worry; they'll be more. XD And weirdly, I got this Pt. done before 2. Iunno... (Expect babbling-on in others too. They'll probably all end up long. Damn my inability to shorten stuff...) __ ---Remember: Comments make the sun rise!!--But be gentle! I bruise easily. ),8 Oh, and it's still unbetaed. I live wild dangerous!! XD!! (not really...)

_~~*~~_

_It was like a maze. Each turn no more helpful than the last. But Batman was determined. He had come all this way, and he'd be damned if he was going let a few dead ends stop him now. Anyone watching him would swear he knew where he was going. And maybe he did. He made a few more turns before he felt he was close. He went down another hall and turned one final time, picking up the pace._

_When he reached the end of the hall he was greeted by a door. His hand flew to the doorknob, turned it, and made his way in without a second thought. It was freezing in there. He could see his own breath come out in hard puffs as he entered the room. Even with the suit on the icy air caused him to shudder all over. It was also completely dark except for a beam of light that shown like a circle in the middle of the room. _

_And there he was._

_Barely hanging on, head down defeated._

_The Joker._

_The sight of him made Batman clench up inside._

_He was covered in blood. His clothes were soaked in it; you couldn't even tell what color they were anymore. Just different shades of red now. There were hooks in him everywhere, stretching his flesh out. Meat hooks piercing through his shoulders, upper arms, forearms, wrists, palms, through the sides of his chest, stomach, one through his naval, hips, thighs, knees, calves, ankles, in his Achilles' heels, feet, and yes even one..._

_Through his jaw._

_They were suspending him in mid air, like some sick homemade __**marionette**__ just waiting to be played once again by the Puppeteer. _

_The sight was overwhelming. The smell even worse. His skin was discolored. Drained. Resembling a corpse when left out to rot. Batman couldn't see his face but he was sure the man was dead. He didn't give any signs of life at all. Batman slowly stepped closer to the broken form just to make sure when--_

_There. Did he see it? He paused in his movements. Was that...was that a twitch?_

_Before he could decide if it was real or his mind playing tricks, the supposed dead man's head rose up. Rose up to meet with Batman's gaze and stay there._

_The Dark Knight did a sharp intake of breath, stopping himself from turning away. If the sight was excruciating to behold before, it didn't even mirror what it was now. But as awful as the man looked, that wasn't the cause for his reaction._

_The Clown was __**crying**__._

_Silent tears streamed down in constant waves, never ending. His makeup was gone, but the blood from the hook painted his entire jaw and neck a deep crimson. His eyes were burning with unspoken torment; by far the most painful things to look upon. They emanated such agony, such heartache, that anyone looking upon them would surely lose their minds. _

_He looked so broken._

_"Bats..."_

_It came out as nothing more than a whisper, and yet it still caused Batman to tremble all over. Despite the hook coming through his mouth his voice--though soft--rang clear. Batman's stomach clenched tightly. Something was winding around inside of him, making it impossible to breathe. He could feel the man's pain, and it was tearing his soul up. _

_"Help me...Please Bats, there isn't much time left. I can't..."_

_His voice cracked when he couldn't get out the words. It was taking all his energy left to try and reach out to this man to help him. To come to him. To __**save**__ him._

_And God forgive him, that's all Bruce wanted to do. _

_Those eyes. God, those emerald eyes were piercing into his soul. Reaching into the man who was under the mask, pulling him to the surface. Meshing the roles together._

_"I can't make it....__**without**__ you."_

_Bruce wasn't sure which one of them said the last part. But he knows his heart was thinking it...and thinks the other one said it. Or, did they both...silently..._

_Batman hissed in pain when he felt something graze his hand. He looked down and saw it was bleeding from a fresh cut. Something had cut him, and semi deep._

_'Wait. My hand's bleeding. I can see my hand. _

_**Where's**__ my suit?!'_

_Horrified, he saw that his outfit was gone. Completely gone. And he was standing stark naked as Bruce Wayne in front of the Joker. _

_Who never stopped looking at his face...unblinking...and didn't seem to register who he was really looking at. Or, he just didn't care. Or,_

_He already __**knew**__._

_Suddenly, Bruce saw a shadow pass from the corner of his eye and move swiftly to the hovering form, circling him. The closer It got to the light the better he could see It's face...and oh how he wished he didn't see It's face. It was clad in a black cloak with red peaking underneath. Black leather gloves, _

_and a __**Pig head**__ for a face._

_"Hurry." was the Joker's final word. Only this time, it was less pleading and more of a __**warning.**_

_Bruce found himself gaping wide eyed at the scene before him, unable to breathe. Frozen to the spot like a statue. Without his suit he felt so vulnerable. So helpless, so powerless. He couldn't even get himself to move when he saw that 'Pig' come down upon the Joker from behind, grab the hook from his right shoulder and the one from his stomach and pull. There was a sickening tearing sound as the hooks were wrenched from his body. Blood and skin tissue went flying everywhere. The Joker threw back his head and screamed. The 'Pig' dropped the hooks and grabbed two more. _

_**"No! Stop! Stop it! Don't you touch him!!"**__ Bruce became suddenly enraged, causing him to run full speed at that villain. Because of that scream. Shocking movement into him, for it was the Clown's last sounds of life. And he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to believe it. Every pang of suffering the man uttered ghosted itself on Bruce._

_So much hatred he had for this new monster could not seem to fuel him enough to reach his 'other half'. It seemed no matter how hard he tried or how fast he moved, he wasn't getting any closer. Every step he took still kept the same distance apart. It frustrated him. Enraged him. But most of all, it scared him. It was a sign he wouldn't let himself believe. A warning he wasn't going to listen to, and yet was unavoidable._

_He wasn't going to make it._

_It ripped out four more; one from his left palm, one from his right thigh, and both Achilles' heels. His cries grew louder and longer with each laceration. Eyes begging to be released, calling out to the other man when no words could do the trick now, needing the stronger man to pull him through, take him away; and there was nothing Bruce could do about it. It was all happening so fast. It hurt so much..._

_It seemed every rip Joker took physically, Bruce got ripped internally._

_**"Stop it! Stop! Don't hurt him anymore! Please!"**__ The playboy was practically begging for the 'Pig' to leave the tortured Clown alone since he wasn't moving any closer. But, it seems, not even words were reaching any better than anything else he tried. He was being drowned out. Overpowered by the suffering cries and relentless mutilation that engulfed the room. The light which encircled them grew brighter and hotter. Bruce felt like he was on fire, yet he continued to try. He had to. Breath heaving, chest pounding, muscles aching, and voice straining were the only outcomes to his futile attempts at being the hero._

_Hooks began littering the floor. Soon there were only two left. The one in his naval, and the one through his jaw. The rest of him was now mangled limbs, dangling helplessly at his sides. It was all beyond repairable, and the only support left were the remaining hooks, and the 'Pig' holding him up. It gripped It's hands firmly around each hook, preparing Itself._

_**"Get your damn hands off of him!!"**__ Bruce roared. He never once gave up trying to get It's attention. To reach It. Get It to just pause in It's pursuit. __**Anything.**__ He was so tired..._

_However, this time it seemed to pay off._

_Or so he thought._

_The 'Pig' did indeed pause and turned It's attention to Bruce, staring right at him. Acknowledging him for the first time. The Joker whimpered in Its arms, flinching at every movement. Bruce stopped. And stared. He should have felt relief that the 'Pig' finally stopped, but no. Somehow, he felt worse. Worse than he had when it all started. Like it was somehow all his fault. It was staring him down, daring him to try anything more. Analyzing him. Judging him. Bruce couldn't take it. He felt inside just how the Joker looked outside. And the realization of it brought him to his knees. Falling hard, he knelt before this demon with not but a pleading soul for It to let them go. It ignored everything he uttered and continued to stare. Stare, and could feel It actually 'smiling' under that mask. It knew the outcome before they did. __**And It was smiling because of it.**__ Bruce could feel himself falling. He took one last desperate glance at the Joker, and they shared a look. They knew._

_"Game over."_

_Bruce had enough time to scream 'no' when the 'Pig' pulled out the final two hooks, ripping the Clown apart. Everything turned white hot---_

_~~*~~_

**"JOKER!!!!!"**

Bruce flew upwards out of bed, stumbling over himself and crashing to the floor, blankets tangled everywhere. Without missing a beat he quickly tried to stand up, which just caused him to trip over himself again, crash-landing harder this time. It was all probably terribly funny to see, for anyone who didn't know the context as to _why_ it happened. Which, quite frankly, would have been anyone watching. Thankfully for his sake, no one was. The last thing anybody needed to see was the billionaire playboy flopping around like a fish out of water. Not to mention calling out a mass murderer's name.

He lifted his upper body and looked around the room in a daze, trying to remember where he was, and how did he get there. He began to relax when he realized he was in his bedroom on the floor, splayed out very unattractively. He laid back down on the floor in a huff. God, he was exhausted. He felt as if he hadn't had any sleep in days, and this last attempt wasn't helping. He was sweating all over, which wasn't helping him get up; it was like being on a slip n' slide. His head hurt equivalent to a severe hangover. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing taking deep breaths. His heart had sped up considerably, and he still felt the eyes of that 'thing' on him. He was a bundle of nerves all thanks to that stupid dream. That stupid, horrendous dream.

_No,_ Bruce corrected himself. _It was a vivid nightmare._

But that's all it was, and Bruce was thankful for that. He had never had nightmares like that since he was little. And they always involved the last moments of his parent's lives. They usually ended up with them dying in horrible ways, all because Bruce couldn't get to them on time. In every single one of them, he was never able to save them. And he always blamed himself for it.

_But the Joker?_

It wasn't a surprise to Bruce that he dreamt about the madman; he had on several occasions done so since their confrontation in Gordon's holding cell. One might even say _obsessively._ But they always varied in types of dreams. In the beginning, they were usually about Batman hunting him down and beating the crap out of him. Or vice-versa. Usually that depended on how well a stakeout went (with or without the Joker involved). But then gradually, as time went on and he became more familiar and accustomed to the Clown, the scenarios changed. Some of them became_ less_ violent, others were almost comical, and some were rather enjoyable. Like they would just be sitting at a table together, talking and joking around like _normal people_. Most of the time, those dreams, the conversations were as boring as discussing the weather. But in a sense, they weren't boring at all. He actually _liked_ those dreams. And, in all of them, they were not in their costumes. No makeup, no kevlar. Just two guys enjoying each other's company for once. Although, why he had dreams like that and with the _Joker_, Bruce couldn't fathom.

Then, eventually, came the more _pleasurable_ dreams. He never told anyone about those, and rightly so. How would one begin to explain to any normal, sane person that they have fantasies about 'getting physical' with a psychotic killer? _And someone of their own sex?_ Although it would be the perfect conversation ender. (And Bruce was tempted to use it on a couple of rich snobs, just to get them to shut up and leave him alone. And to see the look on their face.) Bruce secretly looked forward to these ones especially. Although, these ones varied as much as all the other ones did. Ranging from extreme violence, to near rape, to being cute and cuddly, to down right hot and heavy, and finally wonderfully romantic. Funny thing about the last one, is that _those_ ones didn't kick in until the Clown himself seemed to change around him in real life.

The Joker had always preached that they were meant for each other, and as much as it disgusted Batman at first, he didn't seem to mind it anymore as time went on. _Not that he ever liked it_, it's just he began to see what the Clown was saying, and (he would _never _admit this, of course) it made sense. He could see it, and the day he finally understood, it felt like a great weight had been lifted off of him. It would even show itself, _occasionally_. Like sometimes, if what the Clown did _really wasn't_ all that severe, he wouldn't hit him _nearly_ as hard. And, the Joker seemed to know every time.

Although, it took Batman a little longer to notice the 'change' in the madman towards him. It was never subtle, oh no. But, Bruce was a stubborn man, and _being_ a stubborn man, occasioned him to be _slow_ and _naive_ on certain things. Example was when Alfred had gotten ill from a flew bug that was going around, and it had naturally distressed Bruce out. He would refuse to go out at night and stay by his surrogate father's side, but the older man would insist on him to do so anyway. But after a few nights he wasn't terribly successful in all that he did. It never showed that he was troubled--he wouldn't let the enemy get the upper hand that way. _However_, he had run into the Joker on one of those nights, and it only took a moment for the Clown to understand that something was wrong. How the hell he figured it out, Bruce will never know, but he was grateful that he went easier on him. _In more ways than one_. In fact, the Joker had completely stopped in all his endeavors until Batman was back to 'normal'. (Bruce even found out that the madman had prevented anyone else from causing problems in the meantime. How he had succeeded in doing that, was still _another _mystery never solved.) He didn't even know _why _the Clown did it in the first place. Didn't make sense.

But that was only the beginning. Well, the beginning in which it slowly dawned on Bruce that the Joker wasn't acting _quite_ the same as usual (whatever _that_ is). He would continue to do little things like this to him. Whenever Batman was stressed out, not in the mood, or just plain sick and tired of it all, the Joker would either stop everything and leave him alone, or, (moreover) would seek him out specifically to make him feel better. To ease up a little. Relax, smile.

And play a game.

Batman hated these more than when he was destroying something. Because with these, he just, didn't, get it. And he never explained to Batman why he did them. Killing a boatload of innocent people he would preach his reasons why. But, to just _play_ with him? He never let his motivations show. One time Batman asked him, and got the _weirdest_ response. The Joker smiled at him, almost _flirtatious_, and then stated simply 'I don't want anything to ever bother you, or give you any problems that'll keep you up at night. Heh, that's _my_ job.' then quickly turn away. And with that, Batman was flabbergasted. Because, although he couldn't explain it, he knew that's _not_ what the Joker meant. It was veiled, and had an alternative meaning he couldn't get his mind around.

His subconscious, however, understood it loud and clear. And that's why he had the dreams he did.

Which is why this newest one has him so confused and upset. In all the time he's known this man, in every dream he's had about him, _none_ of them were like that one he just woke up violently from. Even the ones where he was bashing his skull in were never as picturesque as this. This one was a stand alone, unable to be categorized. He couldn't find the reasons of what might've brought it on. It still haunted him long after he was awake and calmer.

Like Joker, Bruce wasn't surprised he dreamed of something that had to do with 'Jigsaw' (which the press were now calling him, for he would leave on his victim's body a calling card of sorts; cutting a small portion of the flesh out in the shape of a puzzle piece). The murderer was the focus of everyone in Gotham. His crimes were so horrible, and they weren't any closer to catching him then if he never showed up at all. He was naturally on Bruce's mind nearly all the time since the first murder, so it was affecting his sleep as well. Having him dressed in the 'Pig head' was a semi new one for Bruce. Usually it was the doll itself, or him stuck in a 'game'. (They learned that the 'Pig' thing and Jigsaw were affiliated with one another when a few times 'It' was caught on security cameras seen taking the victim off to god knows where for there 'rehabilitation'.)

But this scenario was so surprising and alien to the billionaire, he wasn't even sure how to take it. Having the _Joker_ and _'Pig' _Jigsaw in the same dream together, and one where the madman was the one being so horribly tortured, and Bruce is unable to do anything about it (and _wants_ to), and the fact it felt so _real_, and he felt so _connected_ with the Prince of Crime, was all so confusing. Adding more trauma to an already distressed life was not what he needed right now.

So Bruce decided, while lying uncomfortably on the floor, to just consider it as his mind trying to make sense of all the strange things happening to him all at once; and this was the love child from it. The end result. An overload of mixed emotions and problems that festered into the world's most realistic nightmare. He could live with that.

And hopes to god not to get another one like it. He'll get pre-mature grey hair if it happens again.

Bruce sighed heavily when he decided that was the reason, and willed himself to get up and take a well needed shower. But first he looked at the clock. He grunted when he saw it was still dark out, hardly even morning yet. He swept a hand over his forehead. His legs were still weak, and every now and then he had to lean against the wall or something else for support when his knees threatened to give way. Bruce rubbed his tired eyes trying to get the images out of his head. They were horrible. One of the worst he ever had. _Certainly the most real_. It left him drained and not wanting to go back to sleep, for a slight fear of slipping back into that dark room, with all the blood, and the smell, the hooks, _those green eyes_...

The billionaire trudged mechanically into the bathroom and turned on the water and let it run before stepping in. He stripped off his sweat-filled pajama shirt, not even paying attention as he did it. He placed his hands on either side of the sink and stared at himself tiredly in the mirror.

What he saw woke him up better than cold water.

_He had blood smeared over his forehead and one eye._

"What the hell...?" He lifted his hands to check where the blood was coming from, when he found it's source. He froze. Hands in mid motion, just staring in horror at the mirror.

_His hand was bleeding from a fresh cut. Something had cut him, and semi deep._

_"Oh my god..."_

He turned his head down to study it. It was the _exact same cut_ he had received from the dream.

"How the hell is this even _possible?"_ Bruce said out loud trying to understand it all. It made no sense. No sense _at all._ He had heard of things like this happening before, but never did he take it seriously. Now he racked his brain trying to recall every bit of information he'd ever known about it. It wasn't much, and he cursed softly to himself about that. What he did remember was that these things usually occurred when the dream was so incredibly realistic, that the person brought it with them when they woke up. Sort of like a _warning_ mechanism to make sure they don't forget..._something_. The more he thought about it, the more stupid it all sounded. That couldn't be it. That _isn't_ it. _Probably cut myself on something sharp in my sleep, and the pain was brought into the dream._ Yes, Bruce decided that was the more logical choice, and left the bathroom and the water running to go and find what cut him and dispose of it.

....Then went back in to clean his hand off and wrap it in some gauze when he remembered he forgot to do that, then went back out. It hurt like hell, yet he kept forgetting about it.

He searched all around the bed. Feeling the sides of it, laying down on it and reaching his hand out to see if the nightstand might have come in contact with it like that. Finally ending up flinging the pillows and the remainder sheets that weren't already on the floor off the bed and felt around the mattress for, _anything_.

_**Nothing.**_ Nothing was there. Anything that did come in reach wasn't sharp enough to cause such an injury. Bruce was dumbfounded. He ran his hands through his hair looking around the room for the answer.

_It's just...It can't be. It just can't be true. It just doesn't __**happen**__._ Bruce tried to reassure himself that maybe he was still dreaming, but soon ended that train of thought. He began to shake all over and sat down at the edge of the bed. He placed his elbows on is knees, hands together and rested them against his chin, lightly biting one knuckle. One foot continuously bounced. He tried to think of alternative reasons, but each one started to become more outlandish then the last. He eventually humored himself by giving into the original idea and exploring the possibilities as to _why_ it had happened. What was the _warning_? What could be so important, that it left a physical marking on him in the real world?

_Help me..._

Bruce's leg stopped bouncing. He sat there quietly and closed his eyes at the memory of him calling out to Batman..._to Bruce_...

_Please Bats, there isn't much time left. I can't..._

His breath hitched in his throat. He squeezed his hands tighter concentrating on that _voice_...the _pain_ in that voice..._those suffering green eyes_...

_I can't make it....__**without**__ you._

"Joker..." he whispered...

_Hurry._

He snapped his eyes open and jerked his arms away, hissing at the pain. His hand was stinging more than it was just a few seconds ago. He looked at it, and saw it was bleeding through the bandage. Bruce got up off the bed grumbling as he walked towards the bathroom to redo it, when a thought came into his head, causing him to halt in mid step.

His hand started to hurt more, _the second_ he remembered the Joker's last word. The last word...._was different than the others_. His face lit up when he understood the connection.

"The Joker. It has to do with the Joker." Bruce stated to himself out loud. "But, why? What does any of this have to do with _anything? What does it mean?"_ If it wasn't for the fact the nightmare was so _real_, he probably would have just thought this all a coincidental fluke and forget about it. But it _did_ bother him. It _was _bothering him. And something deep inside kept telling him to listen and at least investigate it a little more.

He checked the time. Then skipped the shower and re-bandaging his hand for now and made his way to the batcave. He was going to go out as Batman again tonight, and try to find the Joker and hopefully get some sort of answer by just seeing, or talking to him.

Hopefully, this really was all just a waste of time.

_**Time,**__ the Joker doesn't have._


	4. Oh Yes, There Will Be Blood

I'm sorry it took me a while to update. I just for the life of me could inot/i seem to get myself to put these up!! That's why I decided to put up two more chappies, to make up for it. :3 Oh, and I don't think it's all that good. It sucks, and I'm sorry... ;_;

((P.S.: Oh, and I'm ireally/i sorry to anyone who's bothered by what the Joker goes through in this one. It had to happen; it's iSAW/i!!! At least I didn't ikill/i him...yet. *evil grin/shifty eyebrows* :D))

((P.P.S.: And I'm not saying, nor denying that that's what is gonna happen to him, mind you.))

--------------------------------------------------

_"I want to play __**another**__ game."_

Joker couldn't stop screaming. It had all been too much, too fast. He wasn't even mentally _there_ anymore. Just a raving shell wailing on and on with no intention of stopping. He couldn't think, he couldn't see. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know _what_ he was. He felt himself drifting away into a hurricane of memories. Thrusting themselves on him, invading him. Stripping him bare to the vulnerable onslaught. Locking him up within their grasp. Winding their putrid thoughts and ideas around and through him. Twisting him..._hooking him_...Never to let him escape again. Because he was _theirs. He belonged to them. Always have, __**always will**__..._

His body arched violently up under the restraints when an electrical current suddenly ran through his entire body cutting off the screams from the madman. His mouth gaped wide choking back any sound. He tremored in that pose, shocking the Clown into silent submission for the full duration of the current. His mind and heartbeat froze along with it. When it stopped, he collapsed back down into the chair, gasping desperately for air long missed. He trembled all over. It made his body temporarily numb, but it cleared his mind enough to remember where he was and focus blankly at the TV screen to his left. The Joker wasn't sure how long he had been screaming like he did, he just knew something had been triggered with those words the Puppet said. Then everything went spiraling...and then...

_Hey, wait a minute. I...was I just electrocuted? Did it just..._

As if responding to his muddled thoughts, the Puppet began to speak from the TV.

"That's much better. Now that I've got your full attention again, I suppose you've got a lot of unanswered questions. 'Where am I?' 'Why am I here?' You never could remember our last meetings. I doubt this has changed over the years."

_What, what is this?!_ The Joker could feel himself sinking at those words. More at the voice then what was actually being said. He had been through this before, he was sure of it. But, he couldn't for the life of him remember how, where, or why. He just _knew._

So did the doll.

Quickly, he scanned the corners and the upper walls near the ceiling of the room looking for a hole, camera, mirrors, _anything_. The thing somehow was watching him, and the second he got way too crazed (which he must have suspected was going to happen), he somehow had set up a device to send volts of electricity into him. Just enough to get him under control and stop what he was doing, whatever that might have been. In this case, it was the constant shrieking.

_Shock treatment. I haven't had that in a while...not since before..._

Calming down some, he sat there at the Puppet's mercy listening to that all consuming voice.

"Unfortunately, time is a terrible thing to waste, and something you cannot afford to lose by reminiscing our previous encounters. No, for as you are quite aware of, the here and now are all that matter. Your whole world no longer exists outside this room. Outside that _chair_."

The Joker swallowed hard, eyes locked to the screen. He started to wheeze. Something inside him was reacting to what was going on before his mind would let him understand. He felt sick. Bile slinking its way up his throat trying to exorcize itself from his body, but he held it back. So many memories, feelings, _pains_. Things he never felt as who is was now, but as he did then. Joker was getting light-headed. He began to feel like two separate entities were trapped in his one little body. One of who he once was, and one of who he _became_....

He couldn't tell the difference anymore. If there ever was one.

"That chair will either become the beginning of your transformation, or your final resting place. The choice of how you wish for this to turn out is entirely within your _grasp_. And I mean that in every sense of the word. As you have already discovered, every part of your body is strapped down securely..._except for your wrists_. As I am sure you have already done, you will notice that on either side of the hand rests there are 5 indistinct buttons. One for each of your fingers."

The Joker _had_ noticed this, but it still didn't stop him from unconsciously moving his fingers to the sides and absently tracing each button. It seemed whatever the doll mentioned or said, he seemed to do. Just like a _good boy_...

"Each button is connected to one of the devices encasing your joints and head. You will not be able to free yourself from them in any other way but unlocking the correct set of coordinates. It is very simple to decipher, once you figure out the pattern. However, being under your mental strain it will seem near impossible to solve. The key to getting out is to remain calm and move past the pain. And oh yes, you will receive _pain_. Pain is the first step to the healing process, as you know. I am only giving you one minute to escape the chair. That is just enough time for someone of your intelligence and skill to impute the code."

The fear inside of him was rising, like a paraplegic helplessly watching as the water continued to fill in the bathtub he occupied. But even through all this, even as the doll continued its speech, the Joker never once took his eyes away from the Puppet's face. But then again, he couldn't even if he _wanted_ to.

_And he __**really**__ wanted to._

"To start the game you must push all the buttons on both sides at the exact same time. This will set the game in motion and start the clock. What you must do, is push one button from each side at the exact same time in the sequence that it has been set in. Meaning, if you choose to push the third button on your right side, you must push the third button on the left side as well. Every wrong choice will cause those specific gears correlating with which buttons you pressed to crank down further. Every right one will raise it up. Don't make too many mistakes, or you will greatly suffer the consequences. The deeper the damage, the more severe your chance for survival will _slip away_."

_I'm going to die. He wants me to die--he always wanted me to die!!!_

No.

_**He always wanted me...**___

Why won't you leave me alone?!?!

"When you get the coordinates correct in the right order, then all the gears on the contraptions will reverse and rise up, and then eventually fall off. The bonds will release you and you will be free."

_Free? Did he say 'free'?! Yes!! Yesyes!! Oh, yes I want that!! Give me __**that**__!!! I want free--_

"However,"

_Oh God...here it comes..._

"You must make every second count, because when the timer reaches fifteen seconds remaining, all the cranks on each device will twist _downward_, regardless of getting a segment correct. When it gets to this, it is only a matter of time before they pop your joints out and your skull is crushed in, killing you within moments."

The Joker couldn't help but drop his jaw and suck in air at the last part. He never minded death before, but it always had a different meaning then when it came to _this_. Anywhere else, and he felt it was for a greater cause. But when it came to these games...these _sick_ games...

_It felt perverted._

"Solve the order, punch in the correct pattern regardless of when, and you win the game. Are you ready for this, my dear Joker?"

The madman winced at the formal way the Puppet called him. No one called him that. No one _dare_ call him that. He would rip out anybody's tongue for even uttering the syllables. He didn't know why he despised it so much, but he had a funny feeling it had to do with the fact he hadn't been called that..._since_...

"And you may interpret this in any way you see fit......I wish you the best of luck, _little_ Clown."

The TV went to static, with the Puppet slowly disappearing and his ghastly features being replaced with a timer. Bold numbers blazing one minute just like It said. As disconcerting as it was to see how little time he had, the Joker was beyond relieved that the Puppet's face was finally gone from his sight. He gagged after the 'demon' went away. Staring at it had brought flashbacks of things he never wanted to relive again. Ever. He felt a wave of relief sweep over him. This new wave of relief didn't last long for him. _Then again, nothing does_. He looked back at the screen and replayed in his head the instructions of the game.

_I've got to get out of here. Got to. I do __**not**__ want to rot in this place without anyone knowing where I went. It's such a wasteful way to go. Not at all like I had planned._

But, even more important than that...If I should die here, in this chair, all alone...then...

Then I'll never see my darling _**Batsy**__ again._

And I cannot allow that to happen. Nobody keeps me away from my Bat. _**Nobody.**__ And I know he doesn't feel or care the same way I do about him, but that's beside the point! I've come to terms with that. And still, I'll never give up on him, __**never**__._

And no twisted game is going to keep me away from that which I _**adore**__. And so I'll fight this damn chair. If not for anything, I've got to fight for __**that**__. Always have to. Always will, it seems. Everyone keeps trying to hold me down. Lock me up. They always are trying to catch me, but no one will. No one will ever get that satisfaction. I won't let them. Never again I vowed, and I __**meant**__ it._

Especially about _**him**__. That horrible man who did those things to me. Put me through all these...games..._

...wait, a minute..._**No**__._

His heart rate sped up at the realization of what was about to take place. _No, I can't_. Of what he was forced to do in order to get out of the chair, out of this prison. _I can't do it again. Not again!_ He had gone through horrible things before (and done horrible things to people) just to get away, but never anything as severe as these 'games' put him through every time. _I can't physically or mentally handle these anymore!!_ His breathing grew labored, and as he drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly--horrible ideas passing through his mind-_I've got to try, if just to see __**you**__ again_--, he placed his fingers over the buttons, eyes cast downward....and after a brief pause of looking himself over, (and thinking fleetingly of a certain someone) he pushed all the buttons at once.

_And started the game_.

The Clown gasped lightly as he wasn't prepared for the immediacy of it to start. It jerked, rumbling to life in moments. He half expected everything to just start moving and have those jagged spikes crashing down on him and it ending right away, but it didn't. Nothing happened.

Except the timer ticking his _minute_ away.

He kicked his mind into motion, deciding the best thing to do (since it just started) was to push any button first. He pressed both thumbs and was greeted with a whirring sound, then a click.

_What? Oh! That was right. I got the first one done! Haha! But of course. Now, the second one. This is so easy! Why was I ever worried?!_

He chuckled at his progress, deciding to go next with the last digits on his hands. He pushed with both pinky's.

And got an altogether different reaction.

This time, the sound was a loud hiss, followed by squeaking gears.

He watched in spellbinding wonder as the cranks by his ankles lowered the top spikes downward, stopping right after breaking a centimeter into the flesh. Just tickling at his Achilles' heal. He sucked in air at how surprisingly painful it was. His tried to pull his legs into him, but that only succeeded in ripping the open skin more. He closed his eyes and just pushed his middle fingers next, hoping it was right and would relieve the pain.

It didn't. It was the wrong choice _again_.

This time the spikes lowered down onto his knees, imbedding themselves deeper than the ankle spikes did. Rows of sharp teeth squeezing together from the top and bottom of his poor joints, slowly locking them in place. His legs kicked automatically upwards--which did very little but caused more damage--and this time he cried out. It stung, like the spikes had been soaked in lemon juice. His fingers spastically flicked down, pushing the _same_ button and his thumb ones again by accident. The Clown snapped his eyes open in horror at the blunder he made and was able to let out a '_no_' before they lowered down further onto his knees, again.

_And his head_.

The one device around his head had bothered him from the beginning. Now, he had good reason to be so disturbed. He could feel as the cranks lowered the round top of the head piece slowly down onto the top of his cranium more, forcing his jaw to close. Immediate pressure had shot through his skull. The pole underneath his chin felt like it was bending the jawbone.

His knees had begun to be impaled on the spikes, and the Joker could feel all the muscles being torn slowly as those jagged edges gently grinded into the bone.

Joker tried to throw back his head and scream against the pain. But it was muffled, for his mouth was forced shut and his head refused to budge. He fumbled against the restraints to get away, because he just didn't _want_ this anymore. Not that he ever _did_, but he was slightly curious as to how this one would play out. A sort of primal fear was taking over him now, however, and he couldn't calm down from it. His heartbeat had sped up and all his fresh open wounds were bleeding out fluently.

His index fingers seemed to push down on there own--his body becoming a separate entity from his mind.

And the cranks on his knees _reversed_.

But only on his knees, and nothing more.

There was no relief from the pain, however. In fact, it probably stung more. He didn't care at the moment. The only thing that mattered to him was somehow he had gotten _another_ one right. And by accident.

_I got the second one! Wh-what the first one, again? I can't remember! What am I going to do?! I can't think! My head hurts...Why is this so hard? How much time do I have left??...Oh god! Not enough!! I've lost 20 seconds already?!? NO! I've got to hurry, I'm running out of time and I'm not even __**half way**__!!!_

The Joker had become hysterical, pushing buttons and getting the wrong answer. The spikes continued to lower themselves down upon him; twice to the ankles, once for the elbows, and again for the knees. But the worst for all of them was by far the head. When the spikes had dug deep into his elbows, the tendons in the arms were pulling his wrists inward and seemed to lock them there. He wasn't even sure what he was pushing anymore, but at some point he had hit the buttons that were linked to the head mechanism and brought it down worse than before. Last time it just locked his jaw in place and caused great discomfort. Now, however, it cranked down relentless and shattered his teeth. He had closed his eyes and let out a bloodcurdling scream through a clenched jaw and succeeded in spraying out large amounts of blood.

This was getting him nowhere, and the pain was getting worse.

Somehow, thankfully, he had hit another right button, which this time raised the ankle machine higher. He hadn't noticed. Because something far better happened; _he figured out the sequence._

And just like the Puppet said, it was very simple.

All he had to do was go in order from the thumbs down to the pinky's. _That was it._

But, as luck for the Joker is fleeting, so was his excitement and hope of getting out. Right when he pressed his ring fingers and it raised up the pressure on his head (causing him to cry a little in relief), the worst happened.

The timer reached 15 seconds remaining, and all the cranks suddenly groaned in response and slowly _descended down at once._

To describe the pain the Joker was now newly experiencing cannot be done with words. But if you were to walk into the room at that moment, this is what you would see:

A bloodied Clown convulsing in a nightmarish chair with spikes grinding into him in distinct spots, with his screaming overpowering the room while blood poured down in waves from his mouth and other various places.

The Joker tried everything possible to move past the pain and stay focused on what he needed to do, and that was to press the last buttons--which were his pinky's--and end the game. But he just couldn't get his hands to do what he wanted them to do. Instead, he ended up pushing any and all the buttons _desperately_, which did nothing. His concentration was greatly impaired when the head crank continued its descent threatening to crush him like an egg. His brain was becoming numb as he heard a siren that only rang through his head. By this time, his ears had started to bleed. It kept putting more weight on his already broken teeth, cracking them in pieces and threatening to have them fall out in pieces. Wave after wave of sharp pain increased relentlessly until he just couldn't take it anymore, and it still came.

At some point through all this, the spikes on his knees dug so deep that the madman actually _felt them pop apart_, which sent another uncontrollable vibration through his body. He stopped screaming after this, as the pain reached a whole new level.

He knew he was going to die.

Although slow moving, he moved his fingers one last time in a dying effort to end it all. He reached over to those buttons, rested his pinky's above them, and when all he saw was white, he used his remaining strength to push...

There were several automatic clicking and whirring sounds in response. All the mechanisms froze in there pursuit. A short pause later, the sound of released steam came after, and then one by one,

All the devices raised up, dislocated and fell apart to the floor. Followed shortly were all the restraints unlocking and snapping open, releasing the Clown from there death grip.

The Joker fell bodily face-down to the ground and just laid there, a heap of blood and clothes at the foot of the chair.

He didn't move for a while. The feel of the cold floor and the new position did little to change it. But after a while, when the hissing from the chair died away, it was replaced with a soft--oh so soft--moan that sounded remarkably like a giggle. It grew quickly with each intake of breath he had, and became more fierce. Louder and longer, each one more crazed than the last. Uneven, up and down, every now and again interrupted with a cough.

The Joker was laughing on the floor hysterically. It reverberated off the walls and echoed into a chorus of uncontrollable cackling. Soon his body began to vibrate with each laugh, and he turned himself over to look at the chair and then the TV, eyes bugging out with triumphant insanity.

_"HAHAHAHAA!!!! I WON!!! I __**WON**__!!!! I BEAT YOU, IBEATYOUIBEATYOU __**I. BEEAAATTT. YOOOOUUUUU!!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAAA!!!!!!"**_

The Joker continued to rant on like this to the TV, truly believing it was watching him from there. On the screen were the bold numbers of the minute time run out. All zeros. Then suddenly--

-00:00:00-.....

--_blink_--

-**04:00:00**-

-03:59:59-

-03:59:58-

-03:59:57-

-03:59:56-.....

Joker's laughing slowly died out at his eyes never left the screen. He stared in disbelief at what was going on on the TV. He frowned, terribly confused.

_Wait a minute, what's going on? I...I-I won. I __**won**__, dammit!! What is this?! What's happening?! Why does it say that!! __**Where are you?!?**_

The Joker looked madly around the little room for some explanation. Hoping to find something, _anything_--a clue maybe?--as to what this was all about. His eyes eventually fell on something near one of the wheel legs that held up the television on the floor. It was small, and looked terribly familiar to the Clown. It was...

a handheld gray tape recorder.

He tilted his head at it questionably. He had never noticed it before, but then again, he couldn't have. The device that held his head in place hadn't given him a great deal of room to move, and _certainly_ not to be able to bend down and look at the TV's feet.

When his mind finally registered what it was, he moved without hesitation toward it. Joker ended up having to literally _drag_ himself across the floor by his arms, palms and nails, for his legs were too damaged to be of any use. He grunted and winced at the extreme effort it took for him to get to it. When it was within his grasp he collapsed down exhausted. Panting, he reached a shaky arm out and clumsily grabbed the recorder and then dropped his arm and kept it there. _God_, he was so tired. Too exhausted to do anything more, he stared at it blankly for what felt like forever. Then, on what was sheer will power, he fumbled with it until he was able to get a finger over the play button and turned it on. At first, there was nothing to hear, and the Joker's consciousness slowly began to fade and blur out, when the voice picked up on it snapped him clearly back to reality.

"Congratulations, my dear Joker. If you are listening to this, then I can safely assume you have passed the first test. As I knew you would."

Joker suddenly felt cold as his deepest darkest fears began to grow.

_What, what 'first test'?? What are you talking about?!!?_

"And yes, you heard me right. Did you really think I was going to let you go after just _one game_? Oh, no no no, far from it. The game has only begun. You are far _too_ complicated a puzzle to simply break by just one round. This will continue--"

The Joker shrieked _NO!_ and through the tape recorder as far away from him as possible, not wanting to listen to it anymore. He started to half cry, half shout as he curled himself into a tight ball covering his ears. He screamed at the ceiling for it to all stop, shaking uncontrollably. In his state of mind, he no longer felt pain. He felt nothing, but the ever encompassing fear that always overtook him when he was in these situations. He looked like a crazed, helpless child wanting nothing more than to go home. His sobs were all that he heard, until--

He froze and laid quiet, eyes wide with terror. He shuddered. Coming closer and closer was the sound of squeaking wheels moving _slowly_ in his direction. The Clown stopped breathing. He dare not look up, but he just couldn't help himself. He _had_ to know what this new thing was _now_. What was going to terrorize him _now_. He slowly lifted his head up--hands still over his ears--and stared at the thing moving in front of him. Speechless terror enveloped him at what he saw.

It was the damn Puppet _himself_, riding on a red tricycle with his black shoes pushing the pedals until the front wheel was only inches away from his nose then stopped. They seemed to lock eyes for what felt like forever, but then the doll's mouth dropped open and let out a high-pitched mechanical laugh that echoed throughout the room.

Immediately the Joker scampered away, dragging his mutilated body as far from the doll as possible, screaming--and laughing, _and_ crying-- bloody murder until his voice was raw. His eyes stayed on his antagonist until the world faded to black.

--The Joker seemed now completely _insane_.--


	5. WWHD? What Will Herbie Do?

Next chapter in mah creepy crossover series. It's back to Herbie again! Hope you guys don't mind it. Minus a small cameo in the next chapter, Herbie doesn't come back after this. Or at least for a long, long time. Or unless you guys really like him and would like him to come back, cuz then maybe I can somehow fit him in sooner. XD

**UPDATE:** I've got up to chapter 7 done now, and in my own opinion, it's one of the most graphic. Forewarning in advance; It's not pleasant. :/

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"So Steve kept saying he didn't know where he put it and I was like 'oh great, this is really bad.' You know how I said that Sheril was in total control? Well she started to freak out the second we heard the cops comin'. I mean she was really losing it! Totally ape-shit..."

He's still talking. It's been I think two hours, and he's still talking. I don't even have a clue as to how much I was actually paying attention to. Doesn't really matter, because I don't care what he has to say right now. Not even a little bit. My mind is on worse things and rightly so. I mean come on. If you had witnessed what I did and had been the only one to do so, would you seriously be sitting here hanging onto his every word?

Well, I wouldn't, and I'm not.

And I highly doubt you would either.

The stuff I know, is doing wonders to my ulcers. Not to mention my imagination. I know there is no way I'm going to be able to sleep tonight. Just no way.

...I really hope he's alright. I'm sure he is. He's a tough guy, what with those scars being proof and all. He can clearly take care of himself...I'm sure he can take care of himself...Fuck, I hope he can take care of himself.

Because if he can't, and he's really in serious danger, and Jigsaw is doing unspeakable things to him...horrible, scarring things...most likely consisting of something blunt and jagged...then...

Ohh, I don't even want to think about it.

But it'll be all my fault.

Wait, what am I saying? I had nothing to do with this. This doesn't concern me, I just happened to have seen it. It's not like I could have stopped it, or anything. It still would have happened regardless of me being there or not. And even if I told someone (_who_ exactly I'm still working on) about it, they probably wouldn't even get to him on time anyway. They haven't yet. Ol' Saw-man tends to time his victims, from what I've read and heard through the grapevine. So much time has transpired that for all I know the Clown is dead, his body twisted and mangled in some god-awful pose from his last ditched effort to escape. (Oh. What a horrible visual that was. _Shudder_)

Yeah, yeah that's it. He's dead already. I'm sure of it. I'm so sure of it, I'm not even going to worry about it anymore. I mean (from what people tell me) these things the Jigsaw has them go through I think usually last a matter of minutes. It's been several **hours** since I saw the Joker taken. Whatever he did to him has already happened. He's dead.

Or _alive_.

I wouldn't be the least surprised that he would be the first and only guy to survive this weird ordeal. From the looks of him he seems to have survived a lot of things. Shit, I bet he'd still be around after Armageddon. Him and cockroaches. Oh, and twinkies. And fucking tax collectors.

....But, what if he's not okay? What if--and bare with me on this--this shit is still going on? What if he hasn't put the Clown through any of those game-thingies and is actually torturing the poor guy instead? Like, just out of boredom, or shits and giggles, or another form of experimenting or something? Because he knew he could tough it out and keep coming back for more? He's probably got a big thick book on the worst kinds of torture, from bamboo under the fingernails to just short of skinning him alive. Oh god, maybe he's even cut off the tips of his fingers so when they find the body, they won't be able to identify him!

Oh, wait. He doesn't have any identification. Well, maybe he'd do it anyway. Just in case. Maybe to have it as a keepsake?

The bastard probably even keeps organs in jars out as decorations for his own sick amusement. Hell, I wonder what that 'doll' of his is _really_ for. Scare tactic? Hm, maybe. Or maybe it's a hint as to what he's really into. Obviously stuff with white painted faces who have dark mysterious pasts. Woah. I just had a thought. I wonder if he's doing something not even the most depraved S&M freaks think about that involves the two of them, puppet and clown, and maybe barbed wire and metal rods?

...Where the fuck am I going with this?

"_Jesus_, would you look at that? I stubbed my toe a few days ago on a fucking table leg and its already swelled to the size of a goddamn Kiwi fruit! And the color of a radish....hey, I'm hungry. You wanna go to the old Pizza--...ohhh right. It's been blown up. Funny how I never remembered that 'til now..."

For the love of **dipsticks** Jo-Jo! I don't give a flying fart about your _fucking fruity __**toe**_!!! _Christ._ I've got more important things to be thinking about than your ADD problems...

What? Oh. Right, sorry. I did it again didn't I? You have no idea who I'm talking about, do you? _Sigh_, of course. Well allow me to introduce you. The non-stop jabbering motormouth over here is my friend, Jo-Jo. I call him that--or should I say _we_ call him that--on account that his first name is Joseph and his last name is Jordan. Figure it out.

He works in the same line of business that I'm in. I hope you didn't forget what that was, because it's the thing that got me into this psychological nightmare in the first place. Anyway, ol' Jo-Jo is several years younger than me, and a bit wet behind the ears. Not to mention terribly naive which gets him into his share of trouble. But he's got a heart of tarnished gold, and it helps or hinders him in whatever he does. He's a good kid and means well. But, I don't think he's cut out for this line of work, personally.

Not that he's bad at it, oh no. He's got a real knack for breaking into and hot-wiring the cars. Down to an art form I should say. (Hell, I'm taking notes from him on that.) Unfortunately, he's not so good on the whole 'only do your stuff with no one else around', or especially, 'if people inside, let it slide.' You have no idea how many times we've had to run like hell, or if we couldn't get away, try and make a plausible excuse as to why we have a crowbar in their car door. It's funny to think about it now, but it wasn't then. Oh, fuck no. Still isn't. It wasn't doing a whole lot of good to my stress level, let alone my blood pressure. (Shit, not to mention whatever amount of hair I have left. Which, let's just say, I wish was more.) Needless to say I work alone now. We still hang out all the time, but only 'after hours'. Still, I gotta admit, I was a heck of a lot skinnier when I worked with him. Oh well.

I honestly don't know how many friends he has. But I'm pretty sure they're all about his age and maybe younger. So why in God's name he likes to hang around an old fart like me more than anyone else, I have no idea. I'm not saying _I'm_ old, but I'm older than him. I've always felt older than what my age entails. I wonder what that says about me...

"...Uhhhm, 'Love-Bug'? Hello, are you home?"

"Huh?" Now he's waving his damn hand in front of my face. I'm not blind, Jo-Jo! I'm just not paying any attention to you.

"Are you okay?"

Shit. He knows something, he can tell. Am I that obvious? Do I offend? Am I sweating a lot? I must have been fidgeting and wiggling a shitload because I suddenly am aware that I'm not moving. And my finger hurts, why...? Oh. I was twisting my curly hair around it and now it's fucking tangled in there. Great. Yank it out, got to look normal. Yank, it, _out!!_

"Um, why do you ask?" I say while trying to smooth myself out. Good god, I'm just a bundle of nerves. How long was I like this before he noticed? Sweet Apple Pie, I hope he hasn't figured it out! _Well of course he hasn't. __**Nobody**__ knows. Now just relax and pretend everything's fine!_

"It's just, I've been talkin' to you for awhile and you haven't said anything in response yet. Heh, kinda makes me feel snubbed and left out, ya know? Come to think of it, you look terrible. Is somethin' goin' on? Is it woman trouble? Are you having an affair with a married wo--Oh, I know! You've got a _secret_. You know something and you haven't told anybody yet. You can tell me! I promise not to tell, cross my heart and horseflies! Now tell me: what's goin' on?"

Count on Jo-Jo to screw up on a little ditty. I mean, 'horseflies'? _Horseflies?_ Jesus Jo-Jo...if you don't remember what it is or what it means, _don't use it._

Wait. Did he just accuse me of an affair with a married woman?? What the hell! Stop watching _Jerry Springer_ Jo-Jo!! It rots your brain.

Shit. A secret? Oh shit. Oh shit-ohh, _shit!!_ So he does know!! WAIT. No, he doesn't know, he suspects. Or is he faking that? Fuck if I know. Quick! Act cool, don't look guilty. He doesn't know. Pff! 'You can tell me!' my ass. Jo-Jo here can't keep a secret even if it was chained to him. I know this kid. He's hopeless at promises. But what I wouldn't _give_ to tell another living soul. Just so I wouldn't feel so alone. I wonder, does it really matter if I tell him? He forgets things easily, maybe...

NO. What am I _saying?!_ I can't tell him! He'll tell somebody else--most likely the next living thing he sees--then they'll tell someone then they will and so on and what not, and eventually it'll go back to Jigsaw's ears and he'll fuckin' hunt me down and GAH!!! No. No I can't tell him. I can't tell anyone. Shit Clown, why did you have to be there at the same time as me?!? I'm going to have a stroke I just know it...

Whoopsie. Jo-Jo's looking at me strangely, I must not have said anything for a while. **QUICK!! SAY SOMETHING!!!**

"...Paperclips!" What _the fuck_?

"Uhh...what?"

"Deh--I mean, no. Nothing's going on. I never witnessed a kidnapping of the century while taking a car and am now shitting blood out of fear of what to do and if I tell anyone then I'll be ripped apart by my own flaws. I'm perfectly fine! Just ate something that didn't agree with me."

..._WOW._ I couldn't have given away that I have a problem any better than what I just blurted. Why don't I just walk up to Jigsaw and say 'Here I am!! I'm a moron, kill me now!!' Shit, I'll never be a spy.

Jo-Jo's just staring blankly at me, his face seems frozen. I think I broke him. Can't blame him, I broke my ears hearing it. Out of embarrassment, I'm just staring back at him. My foot is wiggling, and I've plastered a big fake smile on my face. I think I'm blushing too. Don't even get me started on sweating.

...We're still holding this staring contest for I believe 15 seconds straight, I'm pretty sure he's figured me out. That's it. I'm so screwed.

"...Oh, okay. Anyway what was I talking about? Oh yeah, a new couch! So like I was saying, I think we should get a leather one..."

Wait-what? He, is brushing it off and moving back to talking? What I said didn't register at all to him??

Bless him. Bless his little, blond heart. (He's actually a brunet, but his heart is a blond.) How nice it must be to be that blissfully unaware of everything that's going on around you. I'm so jealous I can't even look at him right now.

Although my mind's not in it, we should be talking about the whole couch thing, and I know it. Right now we're sitting on stuffing and wood that once upon a time resembled a couch. We need a new one. He said he'd pay for it this time, and as appetizing as all that sounds I just can't keep my mind on it. Hell, I can't keep it on anything but those two. I really hope he's okay, but I know deep down he's not. He's with the 'Jigsaw', after all. No one's just okay when they're with him. Oh, how I need a drink and another and _another_, just enough to forget this ever happened and hopefully interpret this as a hallucination from too much alcohol.

Yeah, I like that idea. Nothing says 'drowning out my problems and sorrows' like a good six-pack and a couple shots of absinthe later. Going to have to look out for where they're being sold lately.

"Oh hey, Love-Bug! Guess what I heard today!"

I'm pretty sure Barney on the corner of Lexington and Silverrod still sells bottles of the stuff. Haven't seen him in a while but I'm sure he'll hook me up for cheaper...

"You won't believe it! I mean, only in Gotham right?! But guess this!"

Maybe if I promise to swindle him a car of his choice he'll give me a supply for free. It'd be worth it, I mean shit! I'll do anything just so I don't have to think about--

"The _Joker's_ disappeared!!!"

If I could have spewed milk out of my nose, I would have done so then and there. I never had such a sudden heart-attack before in my life.

"_What?_" Oh fuck, I knew I couldn't avoid it for too long, but already!? _Now?!_

"Yeah, I know right?! It's nuts! His men are starting fights in the streets trying to find out where he is! I mean, _murders_ even! It's crazy!"

I think I'm going to throw up. All this is happening because they want him back. Innocent people are getting hurt looking for him, and I know where he is, but because I'm a coward I won't say anything. Damn me! Damn me for that!

"They're going after everyone and anyone trying to find out if anybody knows where he is! They're setting houses on fire and breaking into shops, causing riots in the streets and they don't want to stop until someone who knows something will step forward and talk! Shit, he's not the only one gone neither. I've also heard that a bunch of people, including a **cop**, have upped and vanished around the same time the Joker did! Oh and get this; apparently, _Batman_ is looking for the Joker too! Holy shit! I don't envy the person who knows where these people are!!"

I can't help it anymore. This is making me sick to my stomach, and I feel as if I'm slowly losing my mind. So, in response to what he's told me, I'm now laughing hysterically. I mean, red-in-the-face-unable-to-breathe laughing. I can't stop. Through blurred tears I see that Jo-Jo's face has dropped. I can only imagine what he thinks of me right now. But I don't care. Batman's involved now? He's looking for the Clown too?! That's it. I can't hold this in anymore. I don't want to die! I can't live with this information anymore!

"Uhh, LB?"

"Oh, ahaha! Sorry Jo! I-I'm sorry. I just --Ooowee!-- thought of something funny is all."

"Oh. Well, okay. You were always odd, I guess I shouldn't be shocked. But isn't that interesting nonetheless? I know what I'd do if _I_ had the info everybody wanted!"

Well, now there's an interesting thing to bring up. "What would you do?" I try to ask him half interested.

"I'd pack my bags and leave town! Duh!!"

Not the answer I was hoping for. But he's right, only I don't _want_ to leave! I like it here, it keeps me busy. That's it, I'm telling him. If I'm going to go down, I don't want to be alone at the bottom.

"Hey uhh, Jo-Jo. What if I told you that I, _might_ know a guy, who knows a guy, who's talked with the fellow's lawnmower who works for the nephew's cousin who has seen what happened to the Joker?"

"I'd tell you to stop whatever it is you're smoking and come back to earth."

Sarcastic bastard. And what's worse is that's _just_ how I felt when I heard myself spewing it out. I'll never admit that to anyone out loud, of course. But's it's fucking true. That was the _worst_ lie I have **ever** told. Well, the second worst. The first was that time when I tried to explain to one of my clients that the reason the car had become so flat was that I just so happen to park it where a moose jumped off a cliff and landed on it.

Yeah, they didn't believe me either.

Funny thing about that one was that it's the truth. It really happened. But fuck if anyone believes _that_ tall tale.

"Okay listen," I lean closer to him and look around. I don't want anyone else hearing what I have to say. Even if nobody's here but him and I, you can't be too careful when walls have ears. "I....I lied, to you when I said that nothing was wrong with me. Sorry."

"Oh really?" Innocent little lamb.

"Yeah, really. Anyways," I lean in until I'm sure he can hear me whisper, "You can't tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you. Because if you do, let's just say our 'friendship' won't be worth the spit you use to shine your shoes."

"O-okay....But, I don't spit on--"

"_It's just a figure of speech Jo-Jo!! __**Christ.**_ Anywho....I...I, know where the Joker is."

"What?" I said it more as a muffled mumbly-whisper, so I'm not surprised he didn't get it. But still, I resent having to repeat it.

"I know where the Joker is." That wasn't much better.

"I'm sorry? Bug, I can't hear--"

"I said **I KNOW WHERE THE JOKER IS!!!"** OKAY. That could be heard in Holland. Some birds flew away and one hit the wall out of blind fear. Poor thing.

Good ol' Jo-Jo. The only reaction he gives me is to flinch away from how loud I was, otherwise he's pretty blank. He's staring at me, and at first I thought he was going to pass out, but then he just burst out laughing instead. "Oh, Love-Bug! That's a good one! You always were the funny one, haha!!!"

Why am I surprised he would react like this? And how come people always tell me I'm funny when I never intend to be?? I hate that. I feel my face getting hotter. This wasn't funny! "Knock it off, I'm serious! I _do_ know where the Joker is! I was there when he was abducted you car-fapper!!" Very immature, I know. But I'm pissed now, what can you do?

His laugh slowly dies away as the insult mixed with the look on my face seems to register into the smarter part of his brain. That's when his face drops, and now _I_ have to try to hold it together before I burst out laughing. Don't worry, I don't.

His eyes are wide and keep growing. "Are, are you really telling me the truth?"

"YES!"

"You're not just yanking my chain--"

"For God's sake Jo-Jo! If I was yanking your chain, don't you think I would have ended it by now with some lame punchline?!"

"Oh yeah, I guess you're right." I throw my hands up in the air in a gesture of mocking gratitude. Doesn't even get it. He's really a good kid.

He looks at me again, and I can see the wheels a-turnin' in his head. He seems to have adrenaline pumping through him now as he leans in closer. He looks fucking positively _evil_ right now. "So? Tell me: where is he?"

Good ol' Jo-Jo. Never ceases to rattle me. I suddenly feel like this is a bad idea. Because if I tell him, then I'm dragging him into something which will most likely lead to certain--and painful--death.

Ah, fuck it. Tell him anyways. At least he's not pushing me away and saying I'm crazy, or even giving me away to the highest bidder. Good ol' Jo-Jo. Someone you can never rely on, but who's always got your back.

(And if you think _that_ made sense, then you should go hit yourself with a hammer because you are a **retard.**)

I look around me one last time and lean in even closer. I can feel he is bubbling with excitement and I have to confess it is rubbing off on me. I whisper,

"Okay. Well, the Joker is not too far away. He's actually--"

There was a rustle of fabric, suddenly I was enshrouded in darkness, and I feel myself being lifted off the ground and crushed against something hard. I hear Jo-Jo cry out my name and then hear more clearly the sounds from outside. All of a sudden my feet touch solid ground and the darkness is pulled away as I am roughly yanked forward by my collar and am face to face with something very black and angry.

_**"WHERE'S THE JOKER?!?!"**_

It's Batman.

Great. Juuuust fucking _great_.

The very _last_ person I wanted to come across tonight. (Well, 'one' of the last, anyway.)

_Why_ do I have the idea that I'm going to be feeling all this in the morning??


	6. Getting Closer

Sorry for the delay! Just recently got this back from my beta. ^w^ It's back to Bruce again, so it fills us in on what he's been doing in the meantime. Sort of. Oh, and also it's shorter than the others too. Sorry about that as well. *smiles?*

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_Where are you? I know you're here. You've got to be here somewhere, don't you understand? You've got to be here to prove it's not real. It can't be real, it's impossible. So where are you? You usually taunt me by now, leaving some trail for me to follow. Where is it? There's nothing here. You're not here, and yet you have to be. So come on! Come out from where you're hiding and face me! Fight me! Try and break me, just DO something! Anything! I need to know you're there._

I need to know you're all right.

Batman moved through streets and down familiar alleyways. He drove around areas that he knew the man frequented on many occasions and looked for signs of anyone who seemed like they might know something.

But everywhere he went, he came up with the same conclusion. Instead of facing it, Bruce became more frantic in his search, even becoming sloppy at times. His reasons for searching at all were a laughable joke at his expense, and he knew that. But it surprisingly didn't stop him from pressing on. He would find the Joker randomly somewhere, and he could just brush the dream off as an overwrought sense of perverted release.

That was how he was going to interpret it, and that was final. Oh and his hand? Cut it some time during the day and forgot about it. Nevermind the fact it was bleeding. Yes, he just needed to look a little more and soon the Joker will pop out---

His phone vibrated to alert him of a text message. It was entitled URGENT from Gordon. Begrudgingly he put the search on hold (the Clown was most likely fine anyway) and made his way straight to the MCU building.

"Thank God you're here. I've been getting calls about them for hours now. More missing loved ones, among them some more recognizable faces. I even suspect one of our own to be among the list of the missing. Detective Ramirez hasn't radioed back in for at least an hour if not more, and when we try calling her we get no response. I feel like I'm running out of ideas on what to do. If this is Jigsaw's doing then they're in grave danger and we must try and find them immediately. I only pray we can get to them in time! Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Well, this is the first time a large number of people are missing at once by his hand, which leads me to believe he isn't behind this. My money's on the Joker, and whatever he's planning can't be good. He's probably jealous of the competition and is either loosely copying him, or trying to up his game in some way. Whatever the reason we've got to stop him now before we regret it. Time is not on our side, as every second counts in these horrendous games. All the facts fit for him--"

"Except that he might be missing too."

"Could probably be an act. He's known to pull outrageous stunts before."

"What about his men causing destruction in the streets until his safe return?"

"Again, another act. Something to throw us off his trail...Why are you making this so difficult to believe in?"

"I'm not. I just don't think he has had any part to play in this incident. _So far._"

"Well, whatever it is, I hope you're right. Not that enlightenment would ease my soul, because then it would mean the other one is behind it all. And I'm not sure how much more of the results from one of his twisted games I can handle. Especially with people I know! Have you discovered anything yet?"

"No. But I'm working on it. I'm sure I'm close."

"I hope so. These people may not have been top-notch humanitarians but they're still people. And one of them is a cop. I've still got a feeling the Joker fits into this somehow, but I'm not sure why. You will alert me when you find something?"

"You'll be the first one I call."

"Good. I can't stand feeling left out of these situations while seeming this helpless. And when one of them is a friend. Or, _was_ a friend. You never know who you can trust these days--"

....

_Sigh_. "I hate it when he does that...good luck."

Batman went back on the move. Only this time turning his ultra-high frequency hearing to its fullest point and began to rifle through all the various conversations 'til he found one that seemed like it would lead him to what he was after. He began to grow short tempered when it seemed like all of them were dead end leads for one reason or another, when suddenly a voice came blasting into his ears, **"I KNOW WHERE THE JOKER IS!"**

Yes. Finally, a straight-forward lead. Batman tuned into just that one conversation, and it didn't take him long to pin-point the location exactly. His adrenalin was racing as he swooped in closer to what sounded like only two men. When he arrived closer his injured hand began to burn. Bruce hissed through gritted teeth and bunched his hand into a fist. It almost caused him to crash when instinct told him to pull his hurt hand into himself and leave it there 'til it healed.

Damn that cut. Damn that dream. It's held him hostage in more ways than were healthy to think about.

He landed softly on the roof of an aging warehouse and now could hear the conversation quite clear. He opened a ceiling ledge and peeked down inside. This whole thing was starting to make him sick to his stomach, and he had no idea why.

There appeared to be only two men in the room, both of which didn't look familiar. And yet, something about the one jabbering on the most and getting quick to anger seemed recognizable somehow. They were sitting on what he could only assume was a couch in an otherwise near empty room. He didn't think anymore about it as a strong impulse took over. One word kept passing through his mind as he dropped down and snatched the one who was about to explain all and dragged him back up to the ceiling. Only one question demanded to be heard first as he released the poor man only to grab him by the collar and yank him forward. _**"WHERE'S THE JOKER!?"**_

The man's eyes widened in terror and Batman thought for a moment there he was going to pass out.

_Why am I caring so much about this_? he thought to himself briefly. He couldn't figure that part out. He just wanted to know the answer, and now. He asked again. _**"I SAID WHERE IS HE!?"**_ This time he shook him. The little man stuttered a bit, words betraying him when he needed them most. When Batman had just about enough the other one finally was able to form real words. "Whoa! Whoa hey now, I don't want any trouble, I'm serious! Please let me go, I really don't know--_Ow!_"

Batman threw back his hand and punched the smaller man in the face. Or more precisely, on the nose. The man screamed as blood poured down. He raised both his hands to cover it as if that was going to help and keeled over a bit. "What the FUCK was that for!? Oh my god! That really hurt you asshole! What did I ever do to you!?" _Sniff_. "Ugh...wait, is that? Oh sweet shitty fan it is! That's blood! I'm bleeding you overstuffed leather bag! I didn't know I had this much blood in my nose! For fuck's sake!--I think you broke it! Jesus Christ! And I wasn't even much of a looker beforehand! Is that all you do!? Break stuff!? You seriously need a new job! OR therapy!"

Batman pulled him straight up and yanked him closer again. He felt _a little_ bad for hurting him, but he needed answers, and time was everything. Because it wasn't just one person he needed to find now, not that he needed to find the Clown at all. "Uncooperative behavior from you will make me repeat the action again!" Batman raised his fist once more but more for an effect, which worked. The man's eye went wide as he threw his hands out, one holding back the menacing fist and the other to shield his face. "_NO!_ Nonono, not again! I promi--I _swear_ I'll cooperate! _Jesus,_ I'll do ANYTHING, just don't fucking hit me again! Please!"

Batman shook him hard again and screamed in his face, _**"THEN WHERE IS HE!?"**_

"Ow my nose! Ow my ears! Fuck you're loud! Okay-okay! Look, I don't know the address of the place, all right!? I just spent all my attention in trying not to be caught when I followed them! Shit, that was a mistake!"

"_Them?_"

"How much blood is this? It's unreal how much is coming out! Am I gonna die from this!?--NO WAIT!! I-I'm sorry! I've never dealt with this before! W-what was the question? Oh right! Yeah, the two of them! Joker and that really creepy Pig Jigsaw-thing! It knocked him out and dragged him off to this old warehouse with the company name rotted off. Sorry I didn't catch the address! It was my first time following anyone--let alone two killers!--and I was more focused--" _Sniff. _"Ow!--on trying **not** to get killed! I'll remember to bring a pad and pencil next time I have the heroic urge to track down something important that only I found and will eventually eat at my sanity! But sure! I'll write it down JUST for you!"

Batman stared at him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It _was_ those two, just like the dream. But it couldn't link to the same thing, it was most likely a coincidence. Had to be. Yet on the other hand, it made a lot of sense. It explained many things, one of which why he couldn't find him. He ignored the throbbing pain in his hand which wasn't from hitting the guy. He knew what it _was_ from, even though he didn't believe in it. He amazed himself and almost laughed at how much it seemed to show he cared.

"Blood tastes funny. I think I need to go to the hospital, I feel light-headed. Oh, but if you're enjoying this, than nevermind..."

The guy was too sarcastic for his own good. A security trigger, most likely. But still annoying. Batman dragged him over to the ledge and leaned him over it. That sprang him back to life.

"W-wait! Where are you taking me--Oh my God! No, _please_ don't kill me! I'm sorry for whatever I did that pissed you off! Look, I won't tell anyone what you did, or that I even saw you or that you're looking for your nemeses, for whatever reason! Shit, I'll even deny your _existence_ if that's what you want! Just please! I know it's hard to believe but I want to live! I didn't mean for this to happen to me, I'm just that fucking _lucky_ all the time! ALWAYS at the wrong place at the wrong time!Please don't kill me--PLEASE don't kill me! I deserved what you did! I admit it, just _please!_"

"Shut up! And hang on!"

"W-what?--_AHHH!_" Batman held the man tight and jumped over the ledge. Before he jumped he had taken out a small handheld device and pushed the button. Now in the air, he glided down rather clumsily (as the man he was carrying wouldn't stop wiggling) and only had to wait moments before they were greeted by the Batmobile itself. It hissed to a stop as Batman pushed another button to have the top part open up. The other man shrieked and tried to crawl away as Batman easily threw him into the passenger seat and threatened him with a 'stay-there-or-else' gesture. Batman sat down opposite him and shut the sliding door above them closed, all the while the other man chanted 'fuck', 'shit', and 'Jesus'. What a fowl mouth he had.

"Tell me how to get there."

"Are you going to ki--"

"No I'm NOT going to _kill you!_ But refuse to help me, and I may just consider it."

"Turn left here." That was much better. Batman had a few blissful moments of silence to collect his thoughts about all that was happening, and what he was about to do, minus the occasional gurgled sniff that came every once in a while. But it didn't last long. Bruce had become aware the other man was glancing at him from time to time.

_Sniff._ "I don't suppose you hab a Kleenex in your utility belt, bere." Batman looked at him. The man was now starting to have a hard time speaking clearly.

He looked back at Batman.

Batman stared stony faced in return.

The other man turned away and sighed through his mouth. "No, I didn't bink you did. Figures. I'll just use by sleeve here. That's what bey are bere for anyway, right?" He slid his arm underneath his nose and made a loud sniff, followed by a long 'Owww!' at how painful it was to even touch the nose. Batman turned his gaze back forward and tried his very best to ignore his bloodied companion.

After a few wrong turns and several pleadings of _don't kill be!_ later, the Batman turned his vehicle into what looked like a ghost town of a neighborhood. The other man yelled for him to stop and frantically pointed at a particular building saying that was it. Batman reverse-parked in a nearby alleyway. The smaller man even commented as best that could be understood that he had done the very same thing several hours ago.

Batman only grunted in response.

Batman got out of the vehicle and strode towards the building.

"Woah, wait. What about be?"

Batman turned and looked at him, unamused.

"I bean, you drag be all the way out here--kicking and screaming, I bight add--and there ain't dow way id _hell_ I'b going inside bere. Sooo, cad I just go? Please? I bink you've done edough to be already." _Sniff._ "Oh, ow..."

"Fine. Do what you like. Don't let me catch you around here!"

"Heh, dow argubent bere! Bul-leeve be! Just, be careful in bere, all right? _Sniff._ Ow, shit..."

Batman nodded his head briefly and turned around. He took a few steps forward, then stated, "Go get yourself cleaned up and seek medical attention."

Batman couldn't see it, but he felt the man (whom he never learned the name of) roll his eyes at him. "Oh, gee. Banks for da concern..._asshole._"

He listened to the man sniff, swear and ramble on down the street as he made his way up to the door. Bruce hesitated for only a minute when he felt a cold shiver run over him. Then, and without looking back, he opened the door and stepped inside the gates of hell.


	7. Fire Flashback

Hey there readers! This is the most update chapter I have on it so far. There's going to be more (LOTS more), but first I have to finish quite a few other stories first on this same couple. Then once that's done, I have two or more chapters to go on this one until I'm, well....stuck. Heh ^^ *sweatdrop* But not on the plot! Stuck as in, 'I can't for the life of me think of anymore games!! HELP!!' kind of stuck. I have one more and then I know (basically) what the last on will be, but that's it. Would any of you mind terribly if you could give me a few ideas as to what to use for inspiration? Otherwise I'll just wait for the newest film and get it that way. But I'd much prefer it from you guys. I don't need it now (although I certainly wouldn't mind it) cuz I still have two or three more to type, so that gives you time to brainstorm as well. If you don't that's fine, but I sure could use the help!! Thanks a bunch, thank you for reading my strange series, please comment and enjoy ^w^

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_The laughter continued, ringing in his head and down his spine, shaking him internally. It took over as it had always done in the past until nothing else was left but that unforgiving voice. That voice which always told him what to do and how to do it in order to survive. The voice that 're-educated him' and had taken away his life then rebuilt a new one for the sole purpose of 'making him better'. But he never finished._

The Evil Man's new creation had run away to some unknown place and lost himself in a new identity. It was extremely hard to find him, and even worse catching him. And oh how he tried. He had taken him to various places and cities, always a little too late. But he made good with the time he had, testing and experimenting new ideas and games on other such sinners. Then keeping the ones that worked and forgetting the ones that didn't. But his persistence paid off, and he got him anyway. At long last! The transformation could now continue. Johnny's perfect being was going to be completed this time, without any interruptions.

The little boy was never going to be free from his grasp.

_  
_* * * * *

Joker awoke with a gasp only to be greeted by a suffocating blackness which was now all around him. He felt enclosed in something which his mind automatically figured was some sort of box. He tried to take a deep breath, but nothing happened. He did it again and again with the same result. He started to panic.

Joker tried to reach for his collar and rip it apart if he had to in order to breathe, but to his horror he found he couldn't move. It was then that he realized where he was, and what had happened to him in such a short span of time:

_Oh my god! __**I'm buried alive!**_

He coughed out a shriek and used every ounce of his strength to try and free his arms from his sides. His cries were cut short when a sharp pain from his open wounds which were jostled in his attempts to be free. He was too crazed to think of what else to do, or even how to get out. Something was brushing across his face, but he never noticed.

His elbows were severely damaged, and everytime he banged them into the side of his entombment it made him even more crazed. His hysteria grew to new heights in his desperation. He tried twisting his body to make more room for his hands, and after several hard jerks they were free. Joker began pounding on the lid to break it off, even trying to kick it open. But his legs were still useless.

He was so panicked, that all he could do was scream. His mind kept repeating _NO! Nono please! Don't bury me! I'm alive! Don't you understand?! Can't you hear me?! I'm not dead! Get me out of here, __**I'm not dead!**_

In every pounding effort, the lid bumped upwards a little bit more 'til all at once it couldn't take the strain and broke into two pieces. As they clattered to the floor a small metallic object fell along with it and was soon forgotten.

Joker let out a small cry when his arms stretched up into the air....and straight through the squares of the metal lid. He looked around him and saw that he was locked inside of an iron coffin. Joker slowly pulled his arms back in and rested his hands on the bars. He laid there stunned for a few moments, as his relief of not being buried alive was countered with his new found predicament. Joker rattled the lid, but it wouldn't budge. "What? What _is this?_"

Ironically, at that time, he became aware of something jabbing into his side. He reached across his chest with his right hand and fumbled until he got a hold of that hard object and brought it up until he could see it. It was another gray recorder. But the minute he pulled it into view he saw too late that there was a string attached, which reached its limit and got yanked out somewhere at its other end. Immediately something whirred to life and the coffin began to move forward on what Joker realized was a conveyor belt. Although it moved relatively slow, Joker's panic came back into full swing.

He put one hand back to the lid and pushed against it hard, panting as he hit the 'PLAY' button on the recorder. Instantly that deep familiar voice spoke to him.

"Hello Joker. Of course, we both know that's not your _real_ name, is it? I know who you are, even though you've forgotten. I want you to remember and soon you will. So let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we?

"Does this game seem familiar to you? It should very soon. Of course, it's not quite the same as before, but we have to keep things somewhat new and...interesting. Since I can assume you're listening to this, you've started the game already. Now look down past your feet. In front of you is an old memory. A trigger, if you will..."

Joker did as he was told, but all he saw was a small closed door. His breathing became rapid; he knew what it was. "_No._" He whispered. _No, no, __**no!**_

"You'll be reaching it soon, so I won't have to explain too much. Except, the only way out is the key, which I have so generously applied for you already. I'm sure you've found it by now, attached to the wooden lid."

His eyes went wide as a cold streak of fear shot down his spine. He spun his head to the side and saw laying on the wood, still attached, was the key. His only escape.

**"NO!"** Joker shot his hand through the bars and tried desperately to grab for the key.

He couldn't even reach it, it was 2 or 3 feet away,

Joker stopped listening to the recorder and dropped it. He tried in vain to push his body further over to the right side and reached again. But this time he was now too far away along with too high up. He still kept at it. But it was futile.

The madman roared like a beast and began to rock the metal sarcophagus back and forth in a struggle to knock it off its intended path and onto the floor. It wiggled only slightly, but that was it. Joker didn't seem to understand and kept going.

He froze. He stopped breathing as he helplessly watched the door in front of him raise up to reveal a blazing furnace ahead. "No..."

"No." The fire was wild, hungry for its long awaited morsel.

"No!" He could feel the heat through his battered shoes, its flames reaching out in quick successions to try to reach him.

_"No! No!"_ The iron grew hot the closer he came to its hellish mouth. He kicked, he ripped, he clawed at the infernal cage that held him in. He shrieked to the Heavens as he fought a losing battle with his imprisonment. He couldn't stand being held down against his will. Tears streamed down his face everytime he felt the heat brush across the bottoms of his feet, right in the familiar spots of so long ago. He _hated_ his feet, and he never knew why. But he disliked the look of them. The disfigurement of the bottoms and how they weren't smooth like other people's feet are suppose to be. But that part didn't bother him at all. It was the way they made him _feel_ everytime he looked at them without any shoes on. So he always covered them up. Wore long socks so as to not to make the mistake of them slipping too far down to reveal the horrid flesh beneath. They hurt. He liked the pain, and grew accustomed to it. Kept him on his toes with constant movement. But he _still_ never knew why he hated the sight of them. He loved all his scars, but not his feet.

_"Not again, __**No!**__"_ Now it was all coming back to him. The pain, the hate, the _why_. It was because of that day.

It was all because of _him_.

_**"JOHNNY!"**_ He screamed out that name. He threw back his head and screamed out the Evil Man's name whom he had so long forgotten, as his body was drawn even further into the furnace. He grabbed the sides of his head and pulled at his hair, shaking wildly.

_**"JOHNNY STOP!!PLEASE! JOHNNY! JUST STOP IT! I'M BEGGING YOU! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! JOHNNY PLEASE! YOU WIN! I GIVE UP! I GIVE IN TO WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST STOP! PLEASE JOHNNY, STOP! PLEASE! JOHNNY!"**_

_"Johnny!"_

He was nearly completely in now, the metal almost unbearable to touch.

_**"PLEASE!"**_

_"Uncle Johnny!"_

Joker started to undergo numerous severe convulsions as he cried out. When it came to a stop he threw his head back and let out a blood-curdling 'No!' as the door slammed shut behind him.

_"Uncle please!"_

Once inside the Joker exploded into a mass of screaming, convulsing flesh. He banged his head several times against the side of the iron bars as his hands played 'hot potato' with anything they came in contact with. Everything -including himself- was too hot to touch. The metal coffin was turning into a hot grill, literally cooking him inside. The fire was strategically placed around him, but slowly began to envelope closer.

_"I'm begging you to stop!"_

His feet caught on fire first. It set off a trigger. His eyes turned wide, then his mind went blank. He screamed and---

_"Johnny! Please Johnny stop!" A little boy cried. His blond curls in a hazardous disarray, some of them slapped to his face. His baby blue T-shirt stained down his front with tears._

He cried out again for this man whom he secretly called the 'Evil Man', even though he knew his real name. The little child would try and climb out of the spiky pit he was forced to be in, but never made it past his first leg-up. He screamed when the walls groaned to life and closed themselves in on him. He backed away from one wall and yelped when he stabbed his hand on the spikes behind, then next to him. This was to be the first of many horrendous situations the little 5 year old would go through for years. And already his mind was twisted in fear.

"I wanna go home! I want my Momma! Where's my Momma?!" His cries could've killed a bird in flight, striking it straight to the heart. But alas, these pleading cries fell on deaf ears. The little boy put his fingers in his mouth and shivered. He wailed on as the walls came so close until they stopped just short of crushing him. Any movement he gave would cause the spikes to pierce into his flesh. He became immobile. The only thing he could see was whatever was straight up.

Suddenly, the child grew frantic and screamed. He bounced around, causing those sharp edges to gouge into his skin as his tiny immaculate feet were beginning to sting from the burn of the metal bottom as it started to heat up.

He worked himself up to a frenzy when the heat became unbearable. He called out the Evil Man's name again and heard something respond from above. He cast his blazing green eyes up and gazed into the face of the man he had been calling for so long.

The man above was smiling lightly, his soft features that fooled everyone as to what kind of person he really was were just as gentle as ever, staring back at him.

"Johnny! Let me out! I want my Momma!"  
"No."  
"Why?!"  
"Because you're mine now, boy. Mine until the end."  
"The end of what?!"  
His smile grew bigger. "That is yet to be discovered. Now say it."  
"It hurts!"  
"Of course it does. Pain is the path to healing. Now you would like to get out of there, don't you?"  
"YES!"  
"Then, let's play a game."  
"No! I don't want to! I want to get out!"  
"In order to get out, you must first play. Since it's our first one I'll make it easy. Now, say it."  
"I want my Momma!"  
"That's the wrong answer."  
The little boy screamed even louder as the metal burned white hot.  
"It hurts! I wanna get out!"  
"Then say it. I'll give you another chance boy. Now, say it; what's my name?"  
"Johnny!"  
"No, my full name." The heat became hotter. "You've been a very bad boy, now say it correctly; what's my name?"  
"But, you're not!--"  
"What is it?"  
"UNCLE! UNCLE JOHNNY!"  
The Evil Man smiled wider and nodded his satisfaction. "Very good...."

There was some loud banging, and shouting from outside. The small metal door was suddenly thrown up and several hooks latched onto the iron coffin. With a mighty tug it slid out of the oversized oven, the man inside still screaming and thrashing wildly about.

Hands which were wrapped in cloth hovered over the metal lid, one with the key in hand. It slipped in, turned, and the cover swung with ease to the other side.

Another pair of hands were doing their best to pat out the fire on the legs and feet, then all of them reached in and pulled the withered body out of its prison cell.

The barely alive Clown looked up and only saw he was surrounded by numerous shadows, all talking with excited voices.

As he was laid down on the cold cement floor, the Joker's pain was too much to bear, and all his energy was gone. He blacked out within seconds.


End file.
